


Down Time

by yanagi



Series: Tony!SEAL verse [16]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 23:09:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 48,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11656623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yanagi/pseuds/yanagi
Summary: Remy's family reunion results in a great trip down to Louisiana and fun, food, music ... you get the idea. It's a family reunion.





	Down Time

Down Time

Since I am really bad at handling a large cast, neither Abby nor Ducky will be in this story after the first chapter. 

Thanks to my wonderful betas Jake and Jordre for all their hard work.

.

Chapter 1

Ducky came to table late that morning, but he was smiling. “I’m very pleased that the Royal College of Forensics has invited me to present before The British Academy of Forensic Science. The meeting is in Edinburgh, my old stomping grounds. I’ll be leaving ...” he looked at his printout. “I’ll have to leave day after tomorrow in order to get there in time to have a day to rest. I hate to admit that I’ll need it.”

Jimmy chuckled a bit. “The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.” He flushed then started babbling. “Not that I think you’re weak ... or old, just that jet lag and change of climate, they can wreak havoc on even the youngest ...” he gulped under the weight of Tony and Tim’s stern looks. Ducky just watched with amusement. “Ok, guys, help a fellow out here.”

Tim shrugged, “You’re doin’ a good job of switching feet all by yourself.”

Jimmy glowered at him, but shut up.

Ducky chuckled. “Never mind, Jimmy; I know what you meant, and it is sad but true. I am older. So ... you’re all going to Remy’s family reunion? Sounds wonderful.”

Tim shook his head. “I hate to do it, but I’m not going to go. My Mom wants me to come home for the holiday. Sara’s going to be there ... and Penny. I miss getting to spend time with them. Dad’s ... don’t know where, and I don’t really care. He’s gotten another transfer. Mom decided not to follow him this time; she likes this house a lot and has made friends she doesn’t want to leave. They’re all Navy wives with the same interests and stuff.”

Tony nodded his understanding. “That’s good. No reason to miss out on family for us. How’s Penny?” Tony had admitted that he really liked the spunky lady. Penelope Langston was Tim’s maternal grandmother and still an un-reformed hippy. 

Tim grinned. “She’s great. She and Mom want to take Sara and me to some sort of retreat for the weekend. I’m not too sure about a retreat after Flower and Bright and their shit, but Penny assured me that this would be different.”

Jimmy blinked for a moment then said, “Really? You sure?”

Tim snickered. “Penny had a lot to say about pseudo-existentialistic, self-satisfied, self-serving psychological bullies who pretended to be social coaches. She was not pleased. I think she even had a few words with SecNav and SecDef.”

Tony chuckled as well. “That lady is very well connected. Your dad better watch his six.”

Tim helped himself to more toast, slathered the piece with jam, and folded it, pinching the edges together to keep the jam in. After a bite he offered, “So ... Remy’s family reunion.”

Ducky had settled at the table during the conversation and now had his own breakfast. “Yes. It sounds interesting.”

Tony got a dreamy look in his eyes. “I love them. There’s food, drinks, music. All sorts of games, fishing, hunting, boating, horseback riding… You name it, it’s probably there. We’re going down on the motors.”

Jimmy questioned, “Gear?”

“Won’t need more than what will fit in our bags and your trike. Ma’mere will provide everything else. We’ll have to help with chores but ...” he shrugged, “a little work won’t hurt us.” He poured creamer into his coffee and stirred it.

Ducky eyed the amount and said, “AJ, are you sure you should use that much?”

Tony took a sip then offered, “Well, Ducky, you’re the doctor, but stop a sec. You’ve been on me about losing too much weight lately. I eat well, and good food. Not a lot of junk, no matter what anyone says.” He gave Jimmy a fish eye. “Shut it, you. Fruit ... along with cookies, for a snack. Lots of greens. Love spinach, avocado, and grapefruit salad. Not a lot of grease or sugar. No matter what anyone says. So, yeah, creamer.” He smiled gently at Ducky.

“All right. I do see your point, and you’re right. You’re much too thin. You should be carrying another ten pounds or so. I’ll let it go.” Ducky smiled back over his cup of tea. He did so love poking the bear with Tony. 

Tony just piled his plate with food and started eating. He never ate anything before his first cup of coffee; said it wasn’t civilized. Remy allowed that he just wasn’t coordinated enough to tell the difference between food and his tongue before coffee.

Tim agreed, got a smack on the shoulder, then turned to Jimmy. “You gonna get along with Ducky’s replacement?”

Jimmy scowled at a piece of bacon before stuffing it all in his mouth at once. He chewed, swallowed, then said, “Hope so. Probably not. That’s why I’m glad I only have to deal for a week.”

Ducky nodded. “I decided to take three weeks, which gives me time to visit old friends and old haunts. I’m looking forward to it.” He sighed, “Jimmy, I am sorry that Vance decided to bring that ...” he cleared his throat. “Dr. Osborne Symons the Third. Pretentious ... Do not let him get to you, walk on you, or put you down.” He pointed at Jimmy, looking stern.

Jimmy shrugged. “I won’t. If he gets too stuffy, I’ll go see Abby. If he really gets out of line, I’ll just ... not sure what. I’m not really good at looking fierce.”

Tony offered, “Just pretend he’s me and won’t take his medicine. You look pretty fierce then.”

Jimmy shrugged. “It scares me when you won’t cooperate. So ... doctor face.”

Tim nearly choked on his coffee when Ducky said, “And that is different from bitch face how?”

Tony laughed. “Ducky, you’re shocking the children.”

Ducky just said, “Meh!” and went back to his tea.

.

Jimmy offered to drive Ducky to the airport and help him get aboard. Ducky was happy to accept, glad for the help with his luggage. He was spending three weeks in Scotland, so he’d packed accordingly. This meant that he had a huge suitcase, a carry-on, and a messenger bag to deal with.

Their first problem came when Jimmy tried to park. His Chevy Silverado was a full-size, but the parking nearest to the doors was marked out for K-cars; this meant that they were so narrow that, if anyone parked on either side of him, he couldn’t get the doors open. He let Ducky out with his messenger bag and carry-on, then found a place farther out. He was just glad that Ducky’s huge check-through had wheels.

“Ok. Ready?” Jimmy smiled at Ducky’s worried look. “Not even sweating. Let’s go. You’re supposed to be on-site an hour before.”

Ducky glanced at his watch. “We’re doing well. Two hours. This way.”

Jimmy picked up the carry-on and followed Ducky. 

Ducky kept checking the ticket in his hand against the gate numbers until he finally said, “Ha! Here we are. Just put my bag there. I can get it onto the check-in.”

Jimmy eyed the bag, then the elderly man. “Don’t think so. That thing has to weigh a ton. Who’s meeting you on the other end?”

“A porter, I think. But I’m sure I can handle it myself. It does have wheels.” Ducky eyed his suitcase for a moment then decided that he’d just have to manage. There was no need for Jimmy to hang around on his account. 

Jimmy had other ideas. “You do know that I’ll get the beat-down from hell, and PT till I drop, if I leave you here to wrestle all this shit yourself? Seriously. Not stupid.”

Ducky shrugged. “Oh, well. Far be it from me to get you into trouble with AJ.”

It didn’t take them long to reach the head of the line, as they were early enough to avoid the crowds. Jimmy hoisted Ducky’s bag onto the scale, then sighed; they had to put the carry-on in some sort of bin to make sure it was the right size to fit in the overhead. How Ducky was going to hoist that into an overhead Jimmy wasn’t sure. But it didn’t really matter, as the older carry-on bag was too big, and they had to check it through. This did not please Ducky, as he grumbled, “And what if they lose my check-through? Now that my carry-on is checked through as well, I’ll be starkers.”

Jimmy grinned then offered, “Well, they have to pay for the loss, so you could have a nice shopping trip on that street you’re always talking about. And buy a kilt.”

Ducky thumped him absently. “You mean Carnaby St.? That’s in London. I’m going much farther north.”

“You’ve got tickets to Luton. Check it.” Jimmy frowned. This wasn’t so good.

Ducky eyed his ticket then sighed, “You’re right. I’ll have to get connections north. Train.” He flipped through his tickets as he spoke then said, “Oh, connection from Luton to Edinburgh. It’s a short hop. Excellent. And my baggage is checked through, so I won’t have to wrestle with it.” He smiled at Jimmy. “I’ll be fine. If I have to, I’ll pay a porter. Now, be off with you. Enjoy your vacation and Illegitimi non carborundum.”

Jimmy chuckled. “Said by US Army general "Vinegar" Joe Stillwell. Great quote.”

Ducky smiled. “And not actually Latin.” There was a soft chime and the runner board asked that everyone who was checked in please proceed to security check and on to their gate.

Jimmy gave Ducky a quick pat on the shoulder, then trotted off, leaving the older man to deal with the rest of his boarding himself.

.

Tony went to have a few words with Vance. “Mr. Director, a minute?”

Leon Vance was not a fool, and he was well aware what Tony wanted to speak with him about. “That’s just about what I’ve got.”

“This guy you’re bringing in ... Dr. Osborne Symons III. What’s with that? Jimmy’s more than competent ... and he’s a bit pissed. This Symons guy gets out of line, and there’s going to be problems. Dr. Palmer is a doctor, as well as being very well versed in the protocols, so Symons better treat him right.” Tony’s expression threatened a prank war.

“I know ... I wanted Dr. Palmer to have the experience, but SecNav wasn’t having it. He wanted someone with more experience on board.” Vance scowled at his watch. “Although ... how he expects Dr. Palmer to get experience in lead if he never leads, I don’t know. I’m running late but ... if Dr. Palmer chooses to take offense and go on vacation early ... I won’t get in the way.” He smirked at Tony, shifted his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other, then finished, “After all, if Dr. Symons chooses to step on toes, he’ll have to bear the consequences.” 

Tony grinned after the director, then went down to Autopsy to meet the fill-in.

This turned out to be interesting. 

“Hey! Jimmy, where’s the fill-in?” Tony looked around with a big grin, white teeth flashing.

Jimmy scowled. “In Ducky’s office, rearranging everything.” Jimmy went back to his computer.

Tony patted him on the shoulder. “You really think rearranging furniture is going to last long?” he smirked. “Or that ... Dr. Dimwit is going to manage to find files?”

Jimmy sighed. “He’s already pissed off Abby, Evidence, and Janitorial. Man has two left feet, and both of them wind up in his mouth at the same time.”

Dr. Symons came out of Ducky’s office, took one look at Tony, and barked, “You! Come here! I told housekeeping to send up someone an hour ago.”

Tony smirked at Jimmy then ambled over to the office. “You want me? Wha’cha need, then?” He followed Symons into the office and shook his head. All Ducky’s carefully organized files were dumped on the floor. “I’ll have all this stuff out in a sec.” He nodded. “Just need a couple of boxes. Be right back.” He left to get file boxes, muttering under his breath about “idiots.”

Jimmy just went into the office and started picking up files. “I’ll have these boxed in a minute. If you’d told me you didn’t want them, I’d have done it while they were still organized the way Dr. Mallard likes.” He shot Symons a glare. “It’s really rude to mess up someone else’s files, you know.”

Dr Symons just shrugged. “He should have filed this shit away before he left. Deal with it.” He stomped off. “I’m getting coffee.”

Jimmy muttered, “Jerk.” He figured out that Symons had just picked up piles and dropped them on the floor, so he restacked everything in order. Tony came back with boxes and a hand truck, a four-wheeled platform with a push handle. “Thanks.”

It didn’t take them long to box the files and get them, along with the two two-drawer filing cabinets onto the truck. Jimmy eyed them, then asked, “What should we do with these?”

Tony thought for a moment. “We’re gonna be gone ... are all these cases closed?”

Jimmy shrugged. “No idea. My thought is to take everything to the secretarial pool and let them deal. That way, if we need something, they’ll be able to find it.”

Tony nodded. “Can you deal?” 

Jimmy nodded, but gave him a questioning look. 

“Never ask those women to deal with a mess like this without doughnuts.” 

Jimmy chuckled over that and pushed the truck away. 

Tony picked up one last box and carefully emptied Ducky’s desk of every single thing in it; right down to paper clips and rubber bands. He also took Ducky’s tea things, including his beloved Brown Betty pot, and matching cups and tea caddy. He even packed up the kettle. “There. Suck on that.” He then rearranged the office, putting the heavy desk back where Ducky wanted it and taking Ducky’s chair. This he took to Abby’s office.

He left a note on the desk that said, “All Dr. Mallard’s personal things are removed. If you need anything, you’ll have to contact the Comptroller’s Office and file a request.”

Dr. Symons was not pleased when he returned to “his” office to find no chair, no filing cabinets, and no side table. The empty drawers also made him fume. He called the Comptroller’s office and was told to file a request for supplies and equipment. When he hung up, the clerk opined, “He’s pissed in someone’s coffee.” 

Another clerk coughed, “Gibbs.” Symons didn’t understand that pissing off Gibbs or DiNozzo, especially DiNozzo, usually resulted in lost paperwork, misfiled requisitions, and general uncooperativeness. Add in the fact that he was usurping Ducky’s place, and you had everyone in the building gunning for him.

Tony called in a favor from Dean and got him to bring three dozen doughnuts to the pool. All the ladies crowded around to grab a couple, then went back to filing the hundreds of files that Ducky had piled around his office. Dean opined, “Duck’s gonna be major pissed.”

Tony agreed, but better Ducky pissed over filed things than missing ones. And he wouldn’t put it past Symons to pitch or shred things just because. 

.

They caught a case, and Gibbs growled, “Grab your damn gear. Someone shot a sailor down at Grace’s place. Damn it!” 

Tony snarled. Grace’s restaurant catered to the merchant marines, but was friendly to the services as well. This was going to cause all sorts of chaos.

They got to the restaurant and checked with the local LEO’s. They said the man had been wearing Cracker Jacks, so they’d called NCIS in. 

They were just going to take a look when the transport van arrived, driven by Dr Symons. Jimmy was shotgun and looked grim. He went to the back of the van and got the gurney out, silent and sullen.

Tony shook his head. “Boss, Gremlin is flamin’ pissed.”

Gibbs glanced up from the body. “Don’t blame him. That guy’s a fuckin’ train wreck looking for a damn place to happen.”

Symons stormed up, demanding, “I hope you had the good sense to not touch the body.”

Tim got up from where he was taking a fingerprint. “Just enough to take a print. Got photos first.” He got out of Symons’ way with a grimace.

“Well, you’re not supposed to touch the body until I say so. I’ll write a reprimand and send it to your boss.” Gibbs rolled his eyes; that wasn’t going very far.

Symons knelt down to examine the body. He started talking, expecting someone to take notes. Jimmy declined, as he wasn’t a morgue aide and never had been. Tim didn’t take notes because he was a Special Agent, not his job either. Gibbs just walked away, senior agent in the field wasn’t even supposed to be on site yet. No one bothered to tell Symons that Ducky used a recorder that he kept in his pocket. Jimmy put the kit down and walked off too.

Gibbs went to let the LEO’s know that the man wasn’t a sailor of any sort. 

The senior officer asked, “How could you tell so quick?”

Tim held up his fingerprint scanner. “Not in the system. Every enlisted gets printed, all prints are in the database. He didn’t come up anywhere.”

Gibbs smirked then said, “Uniform’s polyester.”

The cop blinked then turned to Tony. “Polyester? Don’t get it.”

“Navy uniforms are wool. Polyester will probably never be reg; it melts.” 

Gibbs sipped his coffee and watched as Symons pissed off the Supervisory Officer, the LEO in charge, and the DC Coroner’s Office. He kept out of it; wasn’t his job to keep a jackwad from being a jackwad. He did tell the man he was talking to, “Sorry about him; he’s an idiot. I’m going on vacation to get away from him.” He ambled off to get more coffee, calmly taking it from the drinks station and tossing a five on the register as he went by. “Tony! Coffee. Tim!”

Tony and Tim helped themselves too and left, cups in hand. Tony nodded at Jimmy, who was putting the gurney back in the van. He went to get coffee as well, and settled in the van to wait until Symons was done alienating everyone. He was startled when someone tapped on the window. He rolled it down to say, “Yes? What can I help you with?”

The detective in charge said, “Get that idiot off my crime scene. Take him ... wherever.”

Jimmy thought about that for a moment. “Not my job. I’m only the Assistant ME. Ducky’s gone to Scotland to present, and I’m stuck with ... him.” He glared at Symons, who was still trying to tell the coroner how to do his job. Like the man, who’d been a coroner for nearly twenty years, didn’t know his job by now. “If he doesn’t watch out, I’m going on vacation a few days early. I’m due, and already signed up for two weeks starting on Friday.” He smirked. “At noon.”

The detective shook his head. “I’m not dealing with that jackass.” He stomped off to read Symons the riot act and send him to the bus.

Jimmy didn’t say anything on the way back to the Yard; he just looked out the side window and ignored Symons’ bitching. He did offer an occasional “Uh-huh,” or “Yeah,” but he mostly kept his silence—even as Symons took a wrong turn and got lost in the tangle of dockside dead-ends.

When they got back to NCIS, Jimmy announced that he was cleaning the bus. “It needs restocking, too, so I’ll be a while.” He watched as Dr. Symons marched away. “And I don’t want to be any-fuckin’-where near you, you dick.” He started doing inventory, a task he hated, but it would keep him in the garage for at least two hours, more if he loafed. He had every intention of doing a very thorough, and slow, job.

While he was gearing up to do the inventory, at a snail’s pace, Dr. Symons was discovering the bare office, sans chair, desk, side table and anything else. He swore, stomped around and sent another request for office furniture, equipment, and supplies. He got a return email that said, “All duplicate requests will be deleted. Please be sure to send only one request.” He had a little tantrum and tossed a rolling tray full of instruments onto the floor. He called his cousin the SecNav and demanded his “rights” as a fully qualified Medical Examiner. The SecNav wasn’t impressed with this and told his cousin that he’d gotten him the gig, he had to keep it on his own. If he couldn’t get his attitude under control, he’d be back in Chicago on night shift in a hot second. SecNav then told his aide not to put the idiot through again.

Tony, meanwhile, was laughing his ass off. “Gibbs, do not ever piss off housekeeping. Seriously.”

Gibbs looked up from the report he was writing. “What?”

“That jerk pissed off either housekeeping or janitorial, whatever we’re calling it now, and they took out all the furniture in his office. Seems he didn’t have the proper paperwork for furniture so they put it all in storage again. He’s filled out a requisition but ...” he snickered. “You know how long that takes.”

Gibbs shook his head. “He should know better. Wonder why he’s here, instead of wherever he was.”

Tony thought about that for a moment. “Probably pissed off some higher-up. Don’t think he’s going to last here. He’ll have to go back to ... Chicago, I think, and grovel for his job. I won’t work with him.”

Gibbs shuddered at the thought of Symons replacing Ducky. “Not gonna happen. He’s already shit in his whiskey here.”

Tim ambled in with a tray of coffee. “Mission complete. Here.” He handed out the coffee. “So whose reputation are we mangling now?”

“Symons.” Gibbs tapped enter then pushed away from his desk, coffee in hand.

“He’s a mess. I wouldn’t work with him on a bet. He’s incompetent but he’s connected ... some shirt-tail relation of the SecNav. Scuttlebutt is ... he’s on his way out of his current job ... SecNav got him this trial, but he’s got to keep it on his own. Vance wouldn’t put up with anything else.” Tony took his coffee with a nod.

Tim settled at his desk to pull up a presentation on his big screen. “I’ve got all the dirt right here.” They spent a few minutes looking over the information before Tim happily emailed the whole mess to Vance. “See how he likes that. Man needs an attitude adjustment via size ten.”

Tony agreed, adding, “He’s a TBI. An’ I’m not dealin’. Maybe we should just ... go UA.”

Gibbs shrugged. “I’m not gonna let him run me out but, if he really gets out of hand, we’ll just ... sneak out.”

Tim blinked for a second then pointed.

Gibbs sighed. “Vance is right behind me, isn’t he?”

Leon Vance was very pleased that he’d managed to sneak up on the two masters of stealth, Tony and Gibbs. “I am. I got your email, McGee. I’m not pleased, but we’ll let the man cut his own throat. I understand that Dr. Palmer is cleaning and stocking the ME’s van. I expect that will take the rest of the day.” He handed Gibbs the reprimand that Symons had sent him. “And what’s with that?”

Gibbs read it, “I’ll File 13 this for you. It’s crap.” He reached over and dropped the offending page into the shredder.

Vance nodded. “Thought so. This Symons is giving me a migraine already.” He made it obvious that he wasn’t pleased that Symons had jumped the chain of command by sending the reprimand to him instead of Gibbs. 

They talked about the problem for a few more minutes, then decided that the whole thing relied on Jimmy. If he took exception, they were gone. Vacation early was always a good thing.

.

Jimmy finished with the van by 1600 and headed for Autopsy. He ran into Abby on the way.

“Jimmy! That jackwad that took over for Ducky called me a tech! What?” Abby scowled at her boots. “So not! What’s his deal?”

Jimmy sighed; pissing off Abby was not wise at the best of times. “No idea. He’s just stupid. I think this is his last chance. SecNav is trying to save his bacon while he’s doing his best to burn it. Don’t let him get to you.”

Abby scowled. “Too late. He came in, demanded my chair. My chair! Then, when I wouldn’t give it to him, he said he was going to write me up. Have my job. As if! Like he could even start to do it.”

Jimmy shrugged. “Sorry, Abby. I’ve got my own problems with him. If I get back to Autopsy and he’s left me any sort of mess. Or treats me like a mortuary assistant instead of an Assistant Medical Examiner. Well, fuck him.”

Abby shook her head. “No way. He’s too dumb. Not with someone else’s pussy. Go! See what sort of what is going on.” She stomped off to file a complaint with HR.

Jimmy waited a second for the hydraulic doors to whoosh open. He took one look at the mess of instruments on the floor, the open drawers and general mess, and just shook his head. “I’m not cleaning up this mess. I’ll close the drawers as the refrigeration system can’t keep up, but that’s it.” He walked down the wall, slamming drawer doors as he went. 

Symons heard the doors slamming and came out of his still-empty office to yell at whoever was making all that noise. When he realized that it was his minion, he barked, “What took you so long?” He glowered for a moment then snapped, “Never mind. Clean up this mess.”

Jimmy just shrugged. “You made it, you clean it up. And I don’t expect to come back and find all the drawers open again. It’s disrespectful to the office and hard on the refrigeration units.” He didn’t let Dr Symons get started. “And I am not a dogs-body. I’m an accredited Medical Examiner in my own right. I will not clean up after you, organize instruments you’ve scattered, or put up with bullshit. I’m going to the gym.” With that he stormed out and went to the gym to take his temper out on the heavy bag.

He was still there when Tony showed up a 1700 to drag him out to swim.

Tony took one look at Jimmy and snarled, “What part of ‘wrap your hands’ did you forget?” He took Jimmy’s bloody hands in his to examine the damage.

“I did. I just ... it’s hard to do it right with one hand. Ow!” Jimmy winced as Tony poked an especially sore spot. 

“Yeah, I can see. And where the hell are all the trainers?” Tony looked around for one, but they were all busy with a class of new agents. “Shit.”

“It’ll be okay. I’m not messing around here for the next four days. I’m going to take early vacation. That jackwad actually dumped instruments all over the floor and left half the drawer doors open. Housekeeping is going to go mental.” He obediently stuck his hands in a bucket of ice water and arnica that Tony mixed for him. “Damn it! Cock-sucking son of a bitch. Cold.”

Tony smacked him in the head. “Shut up; you’ll scare the kiddies.”

Jimmy made a rude noise, then said, “Swim? Anacostia?”

Tony shook his head. “No. Coast Guard has smacked that with a ban hammer. Laps.”

“Fuck. I hate doing laps, AJ; it’s boring.” Jimmy took his hands out of the bucket, got swatted for it and put them back. “It’s fucking cold, damn it.”

Tony snapped, “Don’t care. You messed ‘em up, you bear the pain. Keep your hands in there until I tell you otherwise or you can’t feel ‘em. Whichever comes first.”

Tim showed up just then. “What the hell?”

“Dumb ass butchered his hands.” Tony went to find some bandaging in the first aid-station.

Tim eyed Jimmy. “Stupid. If that jerk made you pissed, you should have ... not sure what. Just ... dumb.”

Jimmy nodded. “I know. Losing my temper wasn’t smart ... but he is such a douche.”

Tony returned, stuffed the bandages into his ruck, and ordered, “Pool. Laps.”

They headed for NCIS’ swimming pool to do laps, meeting Remy, Dean, and Cosmo there. Gibbs sent Tony a text to say that he was going to be a bit late, as he was hand-delivering their requests for immediate leave to HR. He advised Tony to get his teammates to turn in theirs to him before morning.

Tony snorted. “Already filed request for leave with Belt. All I have to do is text him we want it now.” He fiddled with his phone for a second to send the text, tossed the phone into his bag, then dove into the pool to start his laps. He was followed by the rest of the pod, and Gibbs showed up five minutes later to start his rounds.

The seven men made a poolful, taking up all the lanes except one; that they were going to swim at least three miles meant that they were going to be there a while. People came into the pool area, saw who was in the pool and just left again. It was nearly 1900 when they were done.

Tony eyed the group, then announced, “Ok, we’ll start fin work next time.” 

There was some cheering over this as it meant that Tony thought they were in good enough shape that they could use ‘aids’ like snorkels and fins. SEALs weren’t required to make more than 500 yards without fins; Tony was tougher. He expected everyone in the Pod to manage at least two miles in good time, without fins. Most SEALs never swam without fins on an op; it was counter-productive. On an op, you used every advantage you could. As Tony said, “If you’re not cheating, you’re not doing it right.” But, since they were swimming for conditioning, they went long-distance finless. He also made them practice holding their breath. 

Gibbs picked up a towel and rubbed his head. He was still wearing a high and tight; his year started the 15th of May, and it wasn’t July yet. “Well, one thing I’ll say about this hair ... it dries quick.” He dropped the towel, then settled on a plastic stool. “We need to all get together in the same place and finalize our plans.”

Tim shrugged. “Mom and Penny still want Sara and me to come with them to that retreat. I’m inclined to go, just to be with family.”

Tony nodded. “You should go. Family’s important. Wish I had one.”

Remy draped himself over Tony’s shoulder, whining, “Aw, AJ, an’ I’m no’ your long-lost brother? I’m wounded.”

Tony picked him up and tossed him in the pool. “Blood family, bro’, blood. Jerk.”

Remy surfaced, laughing. “Ok, ok. I do know. Ma’mere will adopt you. Simple.”

Tony helped Remy out of the pool. “Oh, no. No, thanks. That old woman’s a terror.”

“Dat she is.” Remy took the towel Gibbs offered and dried off again.

They dried off and changed into clean clothing. Gibbs announced that, since Ducky wasn’t at Mallard Manor, they were all going to GHQ for supper and planning.

.

Gibbs decided that tonight was a good night to do something different for supper. He stopped by the local Asian market and picked up the things he wanted. He had driven himself in his old truck today. It wasn’t that unusual for all of them to go in one of the three big SUVs, but other times they each took a vehicle of their own. Since the SEALs were sometimes required to go to Yorktown or some other installation, they all owned vehicles of their own, as well as motorcycles, which they kept stored in paid storage when they weren’t using them. There was also Tony’s chopper if it was really an emergency.

When he got home, a quick honk told the others that Gibbs needed help carrying in. Dean and Tim came out of the back through the garage’s back door. “What’s up?” Tim took the bags Gibbs handed him. “Where do you need this?”

“Take it to the back table and just start unpacking.” Gibbs handed off a couple of bags to Dean, then said, “I need to get some stuff from the kitchen. I’ll be back in a sec.” He went into the house through the door from the garage to the utility room, then on through to the kitchen. He exited the house with a tray of utensils, which included a cleaver. 

They finished unpacking the food, and everyone began to smile. Gibbs’ Chinese bar-b-q was so good. He started with purchased ribs and went from there. Since there were also vegetables and other things, the group fell to their assigned tasks. Gibbs’ quick orders got everyone moving quick-time. Not that anyone was complaining. 

Tim disappeared into the house and came back out with the rice cooker and beer. He was greeted with shouts of, “Beer!” “Life blood!” and “Man, I love ya.” He laughed, handed out the beer, and set the cooker down on the grill table. 

Tony nodded. “I’ll go rinse the rice. Just plain?” Gibbs grunted absently. “Okay, plain.”

He got the pot out of the rice cooker and took it inside to rinse the rice and get it started. 

When he returned he found Remy, Dean, and Tim cutting up vegetables for a stir-fry. He sighed, then asked, “Anything I need to do?”

Gibbs glanced up from where he was cutting the ribs into sections. “No, I think we’ve got it covered. Just relax for a bit.”

Cosmo, tending the grill, announced, “Grill’s ready when you are. Need the flat top on?”

Gibbs nodded. “Please. I’m not about to try to cook that much stuff in a wok. I’d have it everywhere.”

Dean laughed as he chopped broccoli into florets. “Yeah. I remember the FUBAR the first time you tried. Seriously. Veg for ... twelve? That’s a lot of shit for one tiny wok. We were pickin’ onions out of the cushions for a week.” 

Gibbs laughed then said, “Yeah, that was a mess. Better to do it Japanese-style on a flat top. Less mess.” He went back to cutting the ribs into pieces. “I’ll have all this on the grill in five. Veg done?”

Tim looked up from stringing beans. “Just about. Just have to string the beans and ... we having tofu?” He eyed the small container with obvious disgust.

Gibbs nodded. “Just need that much for the sauce. Take it inside and rinse it, please. Then mash it.”

Tim got up, container in hand. “Ok. You want it smooth or chunky?”

Gibbs pointed at the soy sauce with his cleaver. “Smooth. Add half a cup of that, half a cup of beer, quarter cup of honey and a tablespoon of catsup, dump it all in a pot and bring it back. Thanks.”

Tim went into the kitchen to make the base for Gibbs’ sauce. He mashed the tofu with a fork, added soy and mashed again. After adding the beer, honey, and catsup, he gave it a quick whiz with a hand blender, then took the pot back out to Gibbs. He put it on the back of the grill, tossed in a few more things, then left it to simmer. He never told anyone that the real secret to his Chinese Bar-b-q sauce was five-spice powder and cayenne pepper.

Tony checked the flat top for temperature then said, “It’s hot. Want me to start the stir-fry?”

Gibbs checked his end of the grill. “Not just yet; the ribs need to be on for five minutes a side; the stir fry only takes five. I’ll let you know when I flip the ribs.” He finished lining the ribs up in the basket and closed the top. He’d had a disaster the first time he’d tried this, as he’d just put the ribs on the grill; some of them were so small that they fell through. The stink had sent Tony and Cosmo inside with flashbacks. It had taken him two hours to get the mess out of the grill.

After closing the grill basket on the ribs and getting it on the grill, Gibbs brushed the sauce over the top, then just held out a hand. Remy obediently put a beer in it, saying, “Smells good.”

Gibbs grunted, which Remy took to mean “Thanks.” Gibbs turned back to his cooking, as the ribs would burn quickly if they weren’t turned on time. He poked at the sample rib, then said, “AJ, start the vegetables, will you?”

Tony just squirted oil on the flat top and dumped the first bowl of vegetables on the grill. He started with carrots, as they took the longest to soften, then added things in time order. “I’ll mix up some sauce.”

Gibbs finished saucing the ribs, then said, “Just use the left-over stuff and add some saki or something.”

“Okay; I’ll just add some more beer. There’s plenty of that.” Tony took the bowl and added enough beer to thin the sauce to the consistency of half-and-half. He picked out a carrot and tasted it. “Veg is done. Ribs?”

Gibbs nodded. “Just takin’ ‘em off the grill.”

Tony spread the vegetables out on the flat top and poured the sauce over them. A few quick tosses later, and the sauce was thickened. “All done.” Tony scooped the vegetables into a huge crock bowl and put it in the middle of the table. “I’ll check the rice.”

He didn’t need to do that, as Tim had already fluffed it and dumped it into another bowl. “It’s ready. Anything else?”

Gibbs put two platters of ribs on the table. “A few odd things; I think Dean took care of it.”

Dean had taken care of the gallon of cole slaw, gallon of potato salad, and some sort of cake. They were also brought from the kitchen to the table. “Everything’s on the table.” Dean settled in his place and waited while everyone else got seated.

Gibbs picked up a platter and took some ribs. “Stir-fry looks good, AJ.”

“Thanks, Jet.” Tony took some rice and passed the bowl. He took a bite of rib and moaned, “Mmmm. So good. Man, great stuff.”

As usual, it didn’t take long before the last scrap of stir-fry was eaten and the last rib bone gnawed clean. Beers passed from hand to hand as Gibbs tossed all the paper into the trash can. As Gibbs said, “Never burn trash where you cook; you wouldn’t eat out of a garbage can, don’t treat your cook top like an incinerator.” Also, there was an ordinance against burning trash.

It didn’t take them long to police the area and settle around the patio on chairs and loungers. Beer and chips made the rounds.

.

Tony found his notebook, opened it, and put it on his knee. He used electronic media most of the time, but for this, old-fashioned paper and pen was his choice. “Ok. Planning.”

Tim started, “I need to teach someone how to work the intercom system. You can’t run a mob with no com.”

Cosmo pointed at Jimmy. “Since it’s on his trike, he’s elected.”

Jimmy groaned. “Man, fuck you. I hate messing with that damn thing. What if I fuck it up and short something out?”

Tim shrugged. “You’d have to ... I’m not really sure. It’s shielded against everything except a sledge hammer ... or C-4. Just turn it on, plug it in and motor.”

Jimmy frowned. “I don’t have to turn on a bunch of shit in a certain order?”

“Nope.” Tim popped the p in “nope” and grinned. “It’s on when you turn the ignition on; just plug in your system and drive. I idiot-proofed it.”

Cosmo groaned. “Oh, my God. You just jinxed us all. Damn it.”

Remy explained, “You can never idiot-proof anything. Idiots are too ingenious. If there’s a way to screw it up, someone will find it.”

Tim sighed. “You know? You’re right. Sorry.” He swallowed beer, then frowned at the bottle. “I did pack parts. Way at the back there’s a cubby where the radio is just a bit short; trunk’s a weird shape, parts are in there with a false front, just to keep odd shit from drifting in.”

Dean nodded. “Okay. I’ll remember.”

Remy chimed in, saying, “We don’t need to pack tents an’ that. Ma’mere will have the barn clean; all we’ll need are sleeping bags and personals. I’ve already got one night in a motel on the way down. Not campin’ in this heat, me.”

Tony shook his head. “Me neither.” He poured beer into his mouth, swallowing audibly. After several swallows, he asked, “We need to bring anything?”

Remy shook his head. “No. A bit of money to help out with things would be appreciated.”

Dean stood up, picked up a bowl, dumped the chip crumbs out of it, and dropped in a fifty. He passed it to Cosmo, who rummaged in his wallet and produced some money of his own. 

The final tally was three hundred dollars. Gibbs tucked it into his wallet. “I’ll see that Ma’mere gets it soonest.”

They finalized plans by getting Tim to drive them to the storage in the morning. He was on his way to meet his family, but said that, if they were up and going by 0600, he’d drop them off. No one found any problem with that, so they agreed, then settled back to finish off the beer, share stories, and gossip. 

The main point was Dr. Symons, and Jimmy started a pool on how soon before Abby killed him. He added, “Although ... I’m not really sure we’ll ever really know. She’ll get rid of him.”

Remy nodded wisely. “Gator bait. She’ll cut ‘im up and drop the bits all over Atchafalaya. Or some place.”

Dean shuddered. “Ugh. So not good. That man. Who’s he fuckin’, anyway?”

Gibbs shrugged. “No idea, but he’s got to be damn good in the sack.”

“Or whoever he’s between the sheets with is really, really desperate.” Cosmo finished his beer. “Wellp ... I’m for bed. ‘Night.”

Everyone else headed for bed too. Since they were all staying at GHQ, there was a bit of rearranging so that everyone had a rack, but it wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last that some of them slept on a cot, or the couch, in the living room.

.

Chapter 2

Next morning was one of those times when Gibbs wondered if he had lost his mind. Everyone was up, running around, trying to get ready to go get their motors. Remy couldn’t find his boots; Dean was still half-naked because his laundry didn’t get done, and he didn’t have clean pants. Tony was swearing because Tim had taken up a bit too much room in his SUV with luggage, so they were rearranging things so everyone could ride and he could still have everything he wanted. This meant that they had to put part of his stuff on the roof rack until they got to the storage. It took a bit of fiddling and some luggage straps, but they got the job done. 

They all piled in, and Tim headed for the storage unit where they kept their motorcycles. Dean asked, “And why aren’t we taking the Hummer?”

Tim snorted, then replied, “Because I’m going on from there, and there’s no fuckin’ way I’m gonna try an’ drive that ... monster. It’s nearly impossible. How the hell AJ manages is beyond me.”

Tony laughed, showing white teeth. “At least no one’s shootin’ at ya. It’s really not that hard; just point it in the right direction and floor it. If you run over something, won’t hurt much.”

Gibbs snickered, “... on the Hummer. Whatever you run into is flat.”

Tony shrugged. “Who the fuck cares? They shouldn’t be in my way.”

Everyone laughed at that. Jimmy added, “You drive like Ziva. I swear.”

Tony grunted. “Yeah. Tim? Heard from ‘er?”

Tim nodded, keeping his eyes on the street. “Yeah. She’s doin’ good. But she’s retiring. Just got the email last night and haven’t really read it all. She’s either bought or is taking over a grove of olive and lemon trees. There’s some wine grapes in the mix too. She said she sent us all the same email. But I’d say it’s caught in some filter somewhere. I’ll check on it tonight and find it, or send you copies of mine.”

Dean frowned over that. “And why do you get stuff when others don’t?”

Tony answered that. “You really think the Navy is gonna let us get shit from Israel without vetting the fuck out of it? Please.”

“True.” Remy nodded. 

Tim smirked. “I get what I want to get. Navy can’t keep a civilian from getting email. You guys are just too precious to risk.”

This got some hoots and groans. Tony announced, “I’d smack you for that if you weren’t driving. Jerk.”

Tim just replied, “Bitch,” and turned into the parking lot of the storage. 

Everyone piled out. While Remy and Cosmo got Tim’s luggage back into the SUV, Tony and Gibbs opened the doors of the storage. 

Tim took a moment to thank Remy and Cosmo for their help and say good-bye to everyone. He drove off with one final wave.

“Well, I hope his thing is better than that disaster Vance sent us on,” Tony grumbled.

Gibbs shrugged. “He’s not flying anywhere, so it should be okay. Besides ... you really think Penny would allow anything to happen?” He smirked.

Tony shuddered. “That woman is truly scary. Seriously.”

There was a bit of laugher as they pulled the motors out of storage. Since Tony’s motor was usually at NCIS, he’d brought it home the day before. Jimmy kept his trike in the garage at Mallard Manor and had also brought it to GHQ earlier. Dean eyed Tony for a moment, then said with awful calm, “And, now that I think of it, why the hell did you come? Your motor and Jimmy’s trike are already at GHQ.”

Tony grinned. “Who am I to turn down a ride with Remy?” He produced his helmet from a go-bag he’d tucked amongst Tim’s stuff.

Remy just tossed him a look, muttering, “Bitch.”

Jimmy shrugged and allowed, “Not stayin’ home when everyone else is doin’ somethin’ fun.” He also had brought his helmet. 

They checked the motors over quickly, making sure that fittings were tight, tanks were full of gas, and tires inflated properly. Then they were off, headed back to GHQ to pack their things and head out themselves.

.

It didn’t take them long to pack things up. They had to wait for laundry to finish so that Dean had clothes, but they used that time to make sure that everyone had what they needed. They had no plans to be on the road before 0700; Gibbs actually thought about later so that they’d miss traffic. 

There was a lot of laughter when Jimmy announced, “Well, one good thing, I don’t have to haul that trailer. It’s a lot harder than it looks. But I’ll miss Tim. Glad we’ve got radios so I can talk to someone.”

Remy snorted, “Idjit.” Jimmy maturely stuck his tongue out at him.

Gibbs allowed, “Wouldn’t want that thing in my mouth either.” He got a couple of mock wide-eyed looks, to which he returned, “Mats?” Heads quickly turned to contemplate other things of interest. He smirked, “Thought not.”

Tony and Gibbs did a final check of everyone’s gear, as usual. They always had someone check gear, as two sets of eyes on the whole thing was always a good idea. Gibbs frowned, “AJ, where the hell is the spare helmet?”

Tony scowled. “It’s usually in the trunk of Jimmy’s motor.”

“Not there.” Gibbs went to find Jimmy. He found him in the kitchen, checking the fridge for anything that might spoil before they got back. “Where’s the spare helmet?”

Jimmy frowned at something in his hand. “In the far front of the trailer.” He looked up from the container in his hand. “Son-of-a-bitch. It’s still right there. I forgot it. I’m so sorry. I’ll go get it right now.” He eyed the container. “Um ... do you know if you can freeze cottage cheese? I found this behind the pickles and catsup.”

Gibbs took the container, opened it and grabbed a fork. He shoveled a huge forkful into his mouth then mumbled around it, “We’ll drop by and get the helmet on our way. It’s only a couple of blocks off-route.” Two more bites and he shoved the half-empty container into Jimmy’s hands. “Finish that and put the thing in the trash bag, then kerb it.”

“Okay.” Jimmy took the container and started eating. “Only ... I don’t like cottage cheese that much.”

Gibbs shrugged, pausing in the doorway to say, “Tough,” before returning to his check list.

Jimmy grumbled, “Asshat,” but finished eating the remainder of the container. Another check proved that everything else would keep, so he shut the fridge door and headed out to check the doors and windows. Finding them all locked, he went out the front, locked it, and went to his trike. He put on his helmet, started the trike, jacked in, then said, “Radio check.”

“Five by five. Ready?” Tony’s voice replied. More voices demanded radio check, got a reply, and motors started as the checks cleared.

They rumbled down the street, headed for Mallard Manor and the required extra helmet.

Jimmy pulled into the driveway first, followed by Tony, then Gibbs, Cosmo, Remy, and Dean. No one dismounted except Jimmy. He hurried to the front door, opened it, deactivated the security system, then disappeared inside. He came back out a few minutes later with the helmet, which he put in the trunk of his trike. He turned to make sure the door was locked and the security system engaged. They all rechecked the radios, then headed back to the highway and the first leg of their journey south.

Everyone who was awake looked out windows as the cavalcade rumbled by. A few even ran out onto their porches to watch. No one was worried about the bikers, as they were used to seeing one or two of them in and out on weekends and odd nights, but the whole group was a sight to see. The deep rumble of the Harley motors echoed through the neighborhood. 

When they hit the highway, Gibbs announced, “We need to make up about half an hour if we want to eat breakfast at a reasonable time.” Since they’d been up at 0430; hitting the road at 0600 seemed reasonable. “Stoppin’ at 0800. Someone figure out a place.”

Tony’s voice announced, “Fuck, Jet, that’s Tim’s job. He’s the only one with hands on the road. We’ll just have to eye-ball a place.”

Gibbs grumbled, “Well, shit. Forgot about that. Start keepin’ an eye out about an hour in.”

An hour just barely got them out of DC. First, they’d run into construction; this slowed traffic to a crawl, and they were between exits, so they couldn’t even get off the four-lane and onto side streets. They were tempted to take the shoulder and discussed it, but decided against it as being a bad way to attract attention to themselves. Second, the highway department, in its wisdom, finally detoured around the construction nearly a mile in. This had them making a circle around a six-block area of commercial zoning. Gibbs was ready to bite his own arm by the time they got onto real highway again. Since this was the I-95 and they had wanted to take I-81, they were all a bit pissed. They were going to have to circle back; after breakfast.

Tony suggested picking up I-266 to R-66 and finding some place along 266 somewhere.

They cruised by the usual bagel, Chinese, and chains. Nothing was open this early, except places like McDonalds and Wendy’s, which they were not interested in. Finally, they saw a small Mom-n’-Pop off the beaten path a bit. They were lucky to notice it at all, as it was a couple of blocks from the highway; the only reason was because Tony saw it from the overpass. They took the next exit and backtracked.

Gibbs dropped the kickstand and got off his motor. The place looked clean, but you couldn’t really tell from the outside. He sniffed; no funny smells. 

Tony also dismounted. “Looks okay.” His doubtful tone made Remy grimace. The last time they’d ignored Tony’s nose, they’d all gotten a bad case of food poisoning. “Doesn’t smell bad.”

A quick check of the alley between the restaurant and the next building yielded the fact that their dumpster was empty and clean. This was a good thing. They decided to go in.

There was a soft chime when they opened the door, and a cheerful voice called, “Just makin’ coffee. Find a seat an’ get it warm.”

They filed in and took the long family-style center table. The wall was lined with four-by booths, and there was a short counter at the back with six stools. A small display case bearing menus and the register cut the corner opposite the door. Everything was immaculate.

Earline came out of the back with menus under her arm and a coffee pot in her hand. “Water?” She handed out menus and poured coffee. “I’ll be back with the water and take your orders in a few. If you need refills before I get back, just yell, or help yourselves. Bottomless cup.” She smiled around, then walked back behind the counter to start rolling place settings.

The menu was simple, mostly eggs, meat, and sides; the only problem was going to be deciding between sausage, ham, and bacon. Remy sighed, then grumbled, “Bacon, or sausage. Then there’s steak. Want it all.”

Earline called, “We offer family-style. It’s on the second page just before pancakes.”

Tony flipped a page, then nodded. “I see it.”

Remy made little humming noises as he read. Dean mumbled to himself. The rest of the group was quiet.

Gibbs finally said, “Okay, bacon, ham, sausage, steaks. Eggs scrambled?” He looked up to see everyone nodding. “Good. Hash browns, toast, biscuits. Pancakes or waffles?”

Earline called. “You can have both. We make up batter and keep it in the fridge.”

Tony grinned then said, “Both. With butter and syrup.”

Dean agreed. “Lots of both. I love dipping the bacon and sausage in the syrup.”

Cosmo called, “You got peanut butter?”

Earline yelled back into the kitchen, then conveyed, “No. Sorry.”

They agreed to do without. Not that that would be that much of a hardship. 

Earline pulled her pad out of her apron pocket, picked up the coffee pot, and went to the table. “Okay, guys, what’ll it be?”

Gibbs ordered, as it would reduce confusion. “Ham, bacon, sausage. Steaks?”

Earline nodded. “Individual orders on those; who wants it what way?”

Gibbs looked the table over then decided, “Skip the steaks; too confusing. Hash browns. Toast, pancakes, biscuits. Eggs, scrambled. Gravy. Keep the coffee comin’.”

Earline offered, “We’ve got juice ... apple, orange, pineapple/mango and ...” she craned her neck to look into the back. “that’s all.”

Everyone decided on orange, and Earline went away to turn in the order. The rather indignant cry of, “First damn thing is family-style?” made them all snicker.

They were probably going to eat more than the cook made, but they’d learned that it was just easier to order more than to argue with the wait staff, who would probably bring in management. So they settled back to wait for food. 

They could hear the cook rattling around in the kitchen, swearing half-heartedly, and the smells began drifting into the dining room. 

Tony’s stomach growled loudly, and Remy exclaimed, “Damn, AJ, when did you get a puppy?”

Tony gave him a sideoogle, and said, “Huh?”

“Oh, you so did not sideoogle me. Sounds like ya got a puppy in your pocket.” Remy thumped Tony on the shoulder.

Tony intelligently thumped him back. Everyone was a bit surprised when Earline yelled, “Knock that shit off. You wanna be stupid, take it outside.”

Gibbs nearly hurt himself he laughed so hard. After a few seconds, everyone else was laughing too. Dean even replied, “Ma’am! Yes, Ma’am. Sorry, Ma’am.”

Earline gave him a fish-eye and demanded. “Who’s in what branch?”

Gibbs, still giggling, although he’d deny it with his last breath, said, “Marine.” He pointed at each man in turn, “Navy, Navy, NCIS, Navy, Navy.”

Jimmy protested a bit. “Jet, Marine, Retired; NCIS, current. Get it right.” Gibbs gave him the finger. “Nice.”

Earline nodded. “Ok, free coffee. Thank you for your service.” She eyed Gibbs, then asked, “Gunny?”

“Yeah. You?” He recognized the earlier tone of voice.

“Twenty years, Master Gunny. I was in Supply, so don’t mess with me.” She grinned. “And stop fuckin’ around at table. Idiots.”

They all settled, as everyone in the military knew that you didn’t mess around with a Supply Master Gunny, especially if you wanted anything. And she was in control of the food.

Earline gave one short nod in satisfaction, then went back into the kitchen to check on the food. “You ‘bout done here?”

Lenny, the cook, just pointed. “Bacon, eggs, toast. Pancakes, sausage and gravy are almost done. Hash browns ... ask ‘em if they want onions in ‘em.”

Earline stuck her head out the door and yelled, “Lenny wants to know if you want onions in the ‘taters.”

Gibbs yelled back, “Sure,” then got up to make more coffee. He put his head through the kitchen door. “Out of coffee. I’ll make some, if you don’t mind.”

Earline chuckled. “Put two bags of coffee per pot or it’s piss-weak.”

Gibbs nodded. “Roger that.” He finished one pot, then decided to start another. “Makin’ two.” 

Earline yelled, “Make the rank. I’ll use it, sooner or later. If it’s too strong ... tough. Put on a pot of hot water for the lightweights.”

Gibbs did as she asked, grinning a bit. She was a woman after his own heart, even if she wasn’t a redhead. He cleaned up the empty bags, made the hot water, then returned to the table with a pot in his hand. He poured himself another cup, then just passed the pot to Dean on his right.

The pot made the rounds and returned to Gibbs, empty. “More?”

Earline came to the table with a huge tray covered with platters. “Take one and do something with it, will you?” Gibbs quickly relieved her of her burden, taking a serving then passing the platter on. “Thanks, hun. Anything else?”

As the platters were quickly emptying, he shrugged. “Another order of everything.”

Earline shrugged. “Clean your plates and ...” she glanced at the table; empty platters were stacked in the middle. “Never mind. I’ll have more out in a jif.”

There was laughter from the kitchen when Earline told Larry to make more of everything. Her voice floated out the pass. “Yeah, you jackass, yuck it up. You’re the one who’s going to be cooking forever.”

“I don’t mind. They’re the kind I like to cook for.” Larry turned back to his work, cracking eggs with both hands. “They’ll eat what they get and be glad of it; they won’t nit-pick it to bits. I intend for them to have the best I can make.” 

Tony yelled, “No shell in the real eggs, and I’m happy.”

Gibbs followed with, “And don’t burn the toast!”

The laugher around the table was echoed from the kitchen. Earline appeared with more platters of food, including steak. Larry yelled from the kitchen, “If you want it more than medium rare ... Tango Sierra! You get what you get.”

The platters made their way to the table and went around, returning to Gibbs empty. He stacked them neatly on the corner of the bar, which was just a long arm away. He turned back to catch Tony stealing a pancake from his plate. He picked up his fork and stabbed it, snapping, “Mine!” Tony yelped dramatically and snatched his hand back. “That’s better. Jerk.”

Tony whined, “Selfish, that’s what you are. I’m still hungry.”

Gibbs snorted as he poured syrup on his stack of cakes. “Go make puppy eyes at Earline. Won’t work on me.”

“Cruel. Just cruel.” But Tony got up to stick his head in the kitchen door and say, “Any chance of ...” he interrupted himself to exclaim, “Waffles! Great!” he took the platter, saying, “I’ll just take this in for you, Ma’am. Gibbs’ll bogart them otherwise.”

Gibbs said, indignantly, “Will not. It’s just because you’re on my left. Sucks to be you.”

Tony helped himself to waffles then passed the platter to Gibbs. He didn’t take one because he still had a tall stack; he passed it on to his right.

Since there were only six of them on this trip, they’d partnered up the usual way: Tony/Remy, Dean/Cosmo, which left Gibbs partnered with Jimmy. So, Gibbs took head of table and Jimmy took foot. Remy usually sat on Gibbs’ right, with Cosmo next to him; which put Dean on Jimmy’s right, then Tony next to Dean. This put him at the end of the circle and last. He bitched mightily about that.

Earline nipped further bitching in the bud. “You all shut up. There’s plenty, and family-style is charged same as all-you-can-eat. We’ll just keep fixin’ until you’re all full. You take it, you eat it. Damn buncha Squids.” She eyed Gibbs, who’d opened his mouth to argue. “An’ I’m includin’ you and him ...” she pointed at Jimmy, “guilty by association. Jarhead.”

Gibbs shut his mouth and smirked at her. She smirked back and poured more coffee, saying, “At least you make a decent cup of coffee.” She turned to Tony, hazelnut creamer in hand. “And what’s with all that shit in your coffee?”

Tony grimaced wryly, “PTSD. Lets me know I’m here. Try gettin’ that in Afghanistan or Iraq.”

Earline scowled at that, but agreed, “Whatever it takes.”

Dean nodded. “True. I swear, I wish they’d figure out how to make really crisp fried chicken MREs.”

Cosmo snorted. “Never happen.”

“Cos, they’ve made pizza.”

Cosmo made a face. “Yeah; you tasted it yet?”

“Well ... no. But a man can dream, can’t he?” Dean stabbed a slice of ham, folded it over his knife and stuffed the whole slice into his mouth. He chewed with an expression of bliss.

Cosmo shook his head. “MRE’s are okay, but home cookin’ ... that’s the stuff of dreams.”

Earline returned to the table with the coffee pot and asked, “Refills? As if I really need to ask. Anything else to eat?”

Gibbs eyed her for a moment, then said, “Pie?”

She gave him a fish-eye, but nodded. “Could do. I’ll go see what we’ve got. Any preference?”

“Fruit. Apple, if you’ve got that.” Gibbs swallowed a slug of coffee and sighed. “Good stuff.”

It turned out that, between making enough food to keep six very active men satisfied, Larry had been baking. Pie, and there was apple. Earline brought the whole thing to the table. “Who wants a slice?” It seemed that they all did, so she sliced it into six pieces and passed the small plates around.

Everyone dug in with moans of appreciation and soon had their plates scraped clean. Jimmy even went so far as to start to lick his plate. Dean kicked him under the table, exclaiming, “Dude! Seriously?”

Jimmy flushed and put the plate back on the table, mumbling, “But it’s so good.”

Gibbs checked the table with a quick look. “Coffee?” No one wanted any more of anything, so Gibbs nodded to Earline, “Check?”

“Right on it.” Earline only took a minute to add up; she ripped the check out of her book and handed it to Gibbs. He eyed it, dragged a credit card out of his wallet and handed it to her. She took it and went to the register to ring them up. She was a bit unhappy, as Gibbs hadn’t written in a tip, but she wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it.

While Earline was ringing up and swiping the card, the guys were taking up their usual collection for the tip. Everyone put in five dollars which, times six, was a nice tip indeed.

Gibbs collected his card, signed the register slip, took his receipt and smiled. “Here you go. We never put the tip on the card because I know how hard it is to get it out of the owner. Here.” He handed over the fold of fives.

Earline grinned. “Well, thank you very much.” She winked, “I don’t have trouble getting my tips as I’m co-owner ... with Larry. We served together, bought this together.”

Gibbs nodded. “Good, good. Glad to see you doin’ well. Good-bye.”

They all trooped out to their motors, calling out to Larry and nodding to Earline.

They mounted up and headed back to the highway.

.

Gibbs snarled, “Damn it. We should have taken a look at a map before we left. I have no idea where to go from here.”

Tony sped up to ride in the front. “I can read the signs fast enough to follow them. Follow me.” 

Jimmy grumbled audibly, “I wish Tim was here. He could read while we keep our eyes on the road.”

Dean replied, “Not like the damn things are huge or anything.”

They followed the signs through Marshall, Markham, and Linden; as well as half a dozen unnoticed small villages and subdivisions. This didn’t see them out of city; just out of DC.

It took them thirty minutes to get from Earline’s place to I-66. A quick left put them on the way to I-85, which was another hour or so. Traffic wasn’t that bad, no worse than they’d been expecting, so they made good time. The interchange at I-66 onto I-85 was more or less out in the middle of nowhere. They decided to ride for another two hours, then look for lunch.

Tony thought for a few miles, then asked, “Why don’t we stop in Lexington, Va.? That’s a fairly large town, and we ought to be able to find somewhere. You want something out-of-the-way, like local, or some franchise place?”

Gibbs offered, “Let’s just cruise the main drag and see what’s there. Anything clean.”

So they took 56 over to Business 11 and went into the main part of town to look for somewhere to eat. They rumbled down the street, looking over the various restaurants as they drove. Tony pointed out one, but no one really wanted Denny’s. 

They finally stopped at a gas station at the end of the business route and asked. The attendant shrugged. “We got the usual chain places, Denny’s, Subway and the like. They’re okay, but I’m partial to Mac’s B-B-Q.” He squinted for a moment. “Just keep on Eleven until you’re almost back at I-81. You’ll see an old stone barn set back a way. Can’t miss it, the sign’s huge. Food’s good, not terribly expensive, and servings are good-size.” He fished around in his pockets for a moment. “Here you go. Even got six. Free drink.”

They took the time to fill up, taking a total of 12 gal. The attendant snickered, then said, “I swear, you boys were runnin’ on fumes.”

Jimmy laughed. “I’ve got the biggest capacity of all of us at just under eight gallons.”

The others just laughed at the joke and ante-ed up for the gas. Gibbs counted, then handed the bills over to the attendant, saying, “Keep the change. Thanks for the directions.”

The attendant, whose name they would never know, just nodded at them, tucking the money into his change bag, saying, “I’ll get the change, end of shift. Thanks.”

They roared away in a cloud of exhaust smoke and rubber.

They rode for several minutes then Cosmo announced, “Anyone think to ask mileage?”

“Nope.” Gibbs’ laconic reply made Dean snicker. “Doesn’t really matter. We on some sort of schedule?”

Remy offered, “Like to get to Ma’mere’s before the reunion start.”

Tony said, “And when, may I ask, is that? As if I didn’t know.”

“Ya know very well it starts on the second and goes through Monday after.” Remy’s disgusted tone made everyone snicker. They had four days to get there before the reunion started. They’d planned on taking three days down and two back up. The reunion would last four days. Remy wanted to stay a couple of extra days to help his grandmother around her home, and they were going to have some fun as well. Then they had no idea what they were going to do.

As they drove along, they took quick glances at the scenery. Tony grumbled, “Kinda wish we’d come in the Hummer. We could take turns driving so everyone had a chance to see the sights.”

Dean replied, “And when we get there, we’ve only got one set a’ wheels.”

“True. That’s why I said ‘kinda wish’ instead a’ shoulda.” 

Another three miles went by with them still looking for a sign. Tony suddenly chuckled. “I think we’re there.” The sign said, Mac’s Ribs ’N More and half-blocked sight of the natural stone building that obviously had begun life as a dairy barn. They turned in, skirting the brick-and-gravel island that surrounded the hard-to-mow-under sign and rumbled down the drive. 

They decided to park on the verge of the lot, away from the barn; too many people had no idea how to park next to or near a bike, and they didn’t want to come out to find that someone had knocked one, or all, of the bikes over. It didn’t take them long to shed jackets and helmets and lock them away.

They entered the stone building and looked around. They were in the usual foyer with a podium topped by a seating chart and reservation book. A sign said, “Take a Seat,” so they stepped into the main room. 

This turned out to be most of the ground floor of a rather large dairy barn with hardwood floors and raw stone walls. It was decorated with obvious relics of its former use. The back bar was dedicated to coffee station, pastry case, and a pass-through. You could see through the pass and into the kitchen, which was sparkling clean, well lighted, and issuing savory aromas. 

Tony and Gibbs both wandered back to take a look at the back end, wondering where the grills and smokers were. They were greeted by a rather dirty man who asked, “Can I help you?”

Gibbs eyed him, then said, “We just seated ourselves; hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah; I was out back tending the smokers. We’re running a bit late today; brother and his wife were in a wreck.”

Tony grimaced. “They okay?”

“They’ll be fine, but he’s in the hospital ... that’s where my wife and sister-in-law are. I called in some help, but they’ll take a bit to get here. I need to go clean up so I can man the grill. Choppin’ wood and tendin’ fires is dirty work. Help yourselves to coffee and whatnot. Excuse me.” The man, obviously Mac, headed off into the depths of the building to clean up and change.

“Wow. Sucks.” Tony went to the coffee station. “I’ll make coffee. Jet? Drinks?”

Gibbs nodded. “Okay, you animals, who wants what to drink ... and we are not all serving ourselves. There’s not enough room. I’ll get it.”

Remy, Dean, and Jimmy wanted sweet tea. Gibbs grunted, “I’ll get my own coffee as soon as the pot’s done. You?”

Tony glanced around. “I really want a beer. But I’m not havin’ it. Drivin’. I’ll settle for coffee too.”

Gibbs got two cups and three glasses of tea, then he realized that Cosmo hadn’t said what he wanted. “Cos?” Gibbs looked around. “Where the hell’s Cos?”

Jimmy jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Head.”

Tony shrugged. “He can get his own damn drink. I’m sittin’ down.”

They settled in their chairs with grumbles from Jimmy. “Menus. We forgot menus.”

Cosmo approached the table with a length of paper towel draped over one arm. “Menus? Water? Soda? Sweet tea?” he formally placed a menu in front of each seated man. “I’ll be back to take your orders in a moment.” 

Dean just got up, grabbed him in a head lock and dragged him to his chair. “Sit the fuck down, doofus.”

Cosmo poked him in the gut. “Not.”

Tony barked, “You are too. Sit.”

Gibbs smirked. “Thanks for the menus at any rate.”

They looked the menu over and realized that the fare was the usual B-b-q of various sorts and sides. One feature was the combo platter, which consisted of a four-rib plank, pulled pork, jerk chicken, brisket, and burnt ends. It came with a choice of three sides: coleslaw, baked beans, potato salad, mac n’ cheese, mashed potatoes, fries, garden salad, or sweet potato fries. You also had your choice of biscuits or garlic toast.

They were just discussing sending someone in search of a server when a young girl came out of the back. “I’m so sorry. I had to come in from East Lex. What can I get for you?”

Gibbs smiled at her, putting her at ease. “Relax. We’re not in a hurry. We got our own drinks at the grill master’s suggestion.”

The server, whose name tag said ‘Grace’, sighed. “Well, that’s good. Uncle Don and Aunt May had a wreck early this morning, and the whole family is in an uproar. They’ll be okay. Broken leg, bust rib, stuff like that; but it scared us all. So ... sorry for the babble. Are you ready to order?”

Tony eyed the table, checking; everyone nodded. “Yeah, we’re all ready, Grace. Brace yourself.”

Grace giggled, “If you guys are anything like my brothers, don’t bother with anything but the combo.” She glanced into the back. “If you all order it, I bet Dad would let you have it family-style. Let me check real quick.” She looked at each of them in turn, and they all just said, “Combo.” “Right. Back in a sec.”

She disappeared into the kitchen and they could hear her talking to Mac. “Hey. Good news. They all want the combo. If we go family-style, that’ll take a load off. Offer them a choice of ... how many sides?”

Mac’s voice floated out the pass. “Standard. How many at the table?”

“Six.”

“Okay. Just take out three servings of everything. Biscuits and bread. I’ll start dishing up, you just take it out as I get it plated.” 

Things started rattling, and Grace soon came out with a platter of biscuits and garlic toast. “I’ll have more in a sec. Anyone like greens?”

Remy offered. “Could bring greens and leave the mashed ‘taters.” A quick glance around the table got nods from everyone. “An’ double up on the slaw?”

“Ok, you got it.” Grace smiled at the group and wished she was about four years older, never realizing that, at 20, they would still consider her a bit too young. She headed back to bring out the rest of the food.

She was joined by Mac himself, carrying the huge tray of dishes. Grace started setting out the food; Gibbs took charge. “Just set it around. We’ll deal. And don’t bother with that serve from the left stuff. With this bunch, it’s more throw it in the general direction of the animals and run.” Grace giggled at that. Everyone else groaned.

“Jerk.”

“Dick-face.”

Tony barked, “Language, Dean; innocent ears.”

Dean flushed. “Sorry, Miss Grace.”

Grace shrugged. “Remember, I’ve got brothers. I’ve heard it all. If I haven’t, I need to.”

The whole table laughed at that, but they resolved to watch their mouths. Especially as Gibbs gave them all a stink-eye.

They minded their manners as they passed serving dishes around and helped themselves. The platters and dishes were piled high with delicious-smelling food. Remy was pleased to see that the greens hadn’t been ‘slopped up’ with butter or something. 

He smelled the forkful before stuffing it into his mouth. “Oh, man. So good. Got smoked bacon in it. Wonder where he got it?”

Dean snorted into his drink. “Smokehouse? Where do you think, knothead?”

Remy eyed him, then rubbed the bridge of his nose with his middle finger. “Jerk.”

Grace, returning with a pitcher of sweet tea, snickered, then said, “I saw that. More tea?” She poured tea as requested, then took a platter and several bowls off the table. “More ... slaw, or ribs?”

Gibbs nodded. “That would be good. Thanks.”

Remy added, “More of whatever we can have.”

Grace checked the empties quickly. “Ribs, slaw, greens, sweet potato fries and ... garlic toast?”

“Yes, please. Thanks.” Tony gave her a gentle smile and Grace walked away, hands full of dirty dishes.

They were working on their second serving of everything when a rowdy bunch came in, banging chairs and in general creating havoc. Grace just walked over and said sharply, “Sit down. Behave. I’ll be back as soon as I let Dad know you’re here.” And with that, she stomped off to tell her Dad that the cousins were all here.

Mac rubbed his face wearily. He’d been up most of the night at the hospital, gotten home in time to send his wife, Helen, to the hospital, then grab a couple of hours’ sleep. He was tired, pissed, and worried, and not in the mood to deal with the McAlester boys. They were generally referred to as “The Cousins,” as they were all related through one grandfather, who’d had nine boys by three different women. They were rude, rowdy, and dumb. He shook his head. “Don’t put up with any shit. If they give the other customers trouble, call me.”

“Ok, Dad. But don’t worry. That bunch at the middle table took like ... trouble on legs. Came in on huge motorcycles.” She added, “Real polite too.” Grace filled her water pitcher and braced herself.

Meanwhile, in the dining area. Gibbs eyed the rowdy group with a very jaundiced eye. He poked Tony, who sent the poke to Dean; it made its way around the table. Gibbs murmured, “Keep an eye on those yokels. They’re trouble.”

Everyone at the table nodded. There was a bit of shuffling as they moved around so that no one had his back to that side of the room. 

Grace returned with water and her order book. “Okay, I know you jerks don’t need a menu so ... what do you want?” She kept out of arm’s reach, only getting close enough to put the pitcher on the table. 

“How about a nice fuck? Right here on the table?” The idiot that had made the suggestion was about six feet tall, rangy in the way of some teens, and not that clean.

Grace just snorted. “Not ever. Not even if you clean up. You want food ... order. You want anything else ... talk to your mother.” She stepped back another step. “I’m going into the back and not coming out again.” She tossed her pad onto the table. “Write down what you want and one ... one...” she held up one finger in warning. “of you bring it to the pass. Jerks.” And with that, she stomped off to the back.

Remy glanced around the table, then stood up. He ambled over to the troublemakers and snarled, “Y’all sit there, eat, and leave. You even look like you’re gonna cause that little lady any grief, an’ I’ll pound y’all. All y’all. Now ... what can you afford ... as opposed to what ya want?” He picked up the order book and waited.

There was some grumbling, but a hard glare shut them all up. Remy wrote down what they wanted, eyed them over, added the prices and said, “Pay now. I know how you idiots do.”

Mac hollered from the kitchen, “They’ll pay. I know their Mamas, an’ I’ll tell. Thanks.”

Remy just went to hand the order through the pass. As he did so he offered, “We’ll watch ‘em. They cause trouble, they’re out.”

Mac looked a bit worried. “Not too sure how that’ll go. That’s a tough bunch. Only thing keeps ‘em in line is the fact that I’ll ban ‘em, and their mothers will make it stick.”

Remy smirked meanly. “SEAL, me. NCIS an’ Marine. They want war, we got plenty a’ practice.”

Mac blinked then grinned. “Thank you for your service. In more ways than one. Drinks are on the house.”

Remy smiled. “Tank ya.” He returned to the table and took his seat. 

Tony and Gibbs both kept a sharp eye on the cousins. Finally one of them gave them the stink eye and demanded, “What are you lookin’ at?”

Tony replied, “Nothing much.” then went back to eating.

Gibbs snorted and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the obvious ringleader. He mumbled to Tony, “AJ, if we got rid of a couple of the older ones, the whole gang would fold.”

“Yeah, but the local LEO’s would sorta frown on gankin’ ‘em.”

“True. But a man can dream.”

Grace came out of the kitchen with a tray of plates, “Special of the Day all ‘round.” She glared at two of the group. “Except for you two morons. Half slab for Enos and pulled chicken for Dave.” She slapped at a groping hand. “You draw that back now, or draw back a stub in two seconds.” The hand withdrew. 

“Bitch.”

Grace didn’t bother to get mad; remarking, “And a crazy one, too. Don’t you forget it.”

Tony started to get up but Grace gave him a sunny smile. “Don’t bother. That’s the last time I’m gettin’ anywhere near that table. They just lost bottomless glass. One-serving drink.” She glared over her shoulder. “You’ve got ten minutes to eat and get out.”

“Or what?” One wise ass started to get up.

Remy and Tony blocked him so fast they caused a breeze. “Miss Grace, please bring to-go cartons for all these gentlemen.”

Grace didn’t argue, she just went into the back, declared the whole group banned as she wasn’t ever waiting on them again, and grabbed to-go carriers for the table. Mac didn’t even look up; he just reached for the phone.

Grace hurried out with the cartons and found herself faced with a dilemma; she wanted the cousins out, but she didn’t really want to get near them. She was relieved when the older man took the containers and said, “I got this; you go back to the kitchen.”

Remy, meanwhile, was making sure that all the cousins paid their bill. As soon as he gave the okay, Tony handed them a carton and supervised the transfer of food from plate to carton. They weren’t having any ‘accidental’ breakage. One of the cousins asked, “What about our drinks? We paid good money for those.”

Grace snorted, “Free,” but went to get to-go cups for their drinks. She handed them over saying, “And no bitching because you don’t have a full cup. Just get.”

No one was very surprised to see a sheriff’s cruiser pull up to the front door and park in the walk zone. The deputy got out, eyed the bikes then the ratty van. He hitched his belt up and walked in. “Okay, what’s goin’ on?”

Grace pointed to the cousins. “Their usual. These gentlemen were kind enough to keep them from ... whatever. And ...” she eyed them for a moment. “I’m considerin’ pressin’ charges of assault on a minor. Maybe even sexual assault.” 

One of the older boys said, “Hey! No! Didn’t mean anything by it. Just foolin’ around.”

Grace eyed him for a moment then said, “You touched me when I didn’t want you to. That’s assault. It was what the teachers call a naughty touch; that’s sexual assault. Deal with it.” She turned to the deputy. “They’re not allowed in here anymore. Take them all out. Their food is there.” She pointed to the carry-out boxes, then turned to smile at the pod. “Thank you all. Once they’re out, we’ll settle up. Okay?”

Tony gave her one of his most brilliant smiles. “If you weren’t jail bait ...”

Grace snorted. “Sorry,” she grinned back. “Taken.” 

Tony shrugged, then said, “Make sure he’s good to you.”

Mac came out of the kitchen to speak to the deputy, overheard the exchange and said, “Her boyfriend is a good guy,” he winked at Tony. “Or else.” He turned to the deputy and they went to the register to talk.

After a couple of minutes, during which the pod kept an eye on the cousins, the deputy returned to the group to say, “Okay, here’s the way it is. Mr. Deacon, Grace’s dad, wants to press charges.” He turned to Grace. “Point ‘em out.”

Grace pointed to the two oldest boys, the ringleaders Gibbs and Tony had pinpointed, “Him and him. Jarod and Isaac.”

Deputy Smith moved forward. “Okay, I’m gonna take you into custody. Cuffs and all. If you resist, I’m ...” he frowned.

Gibbs gave the group a nasty smirk. “If you resist, we, in our capacity as federal agents, will deal. And you won’t like it.” He made a motion that everyone recognized as ‘turn around’. “Deputy Smith.”

Deputy Smith slapped cuffs on both young men, then pulled a small card out of his pocket and began the Miranda rights. Everyone in the pod recited them along with him, from memory. He chuckled as he put the laminated card he was required to read from into his pocket. “I know it too. But lawyers ... what can you do?”

Tony grinned. “Well, you can’t shoot ‘em.”

Gibbs added, “You can’t ignore ‘em.”

And Deputy Smith finished, “So, just humor ‘em and get on with it.”

They all laughed, much to the cousins’ disgust. Deputy Smith took a moment to examine credentials, then let Gibbs and Remy help him get his prisoners into his car for transport.

Remy eyed Jarod and Isaac for a moment. “You need some help with them?”

“No. They won’t be any trouble. They know better. If I have trouble with them, I’ll tell their Daddies. They’re the black sheep of the family, and they’re notorious for getting the younger boys in trouble. That whole pack needs a good ass whuppin’.” He checked that the back doors were properly locked, nodded to both men, and said, “Thanks for the offer, but I actually expect the Sheriff to pick up escort within a mile.” He got in the driver’s seat, started the engine and drove away.

Meanwhile, in the restaurant, Mac was finishing getting the rest of the group out the door. He handed all the food containers to two of the boys and bags of drinks to another. “Here’s your food and drinks. Do not come back unless you’re with your family. Any more trouble, and you won’t set foot in the door until you’re old and grey, no matter who you’re with.” He chivvied them toward the door, backed up by Jimmy and Dean. 

There was some muttering and a veiled threat from one boy. He got a smack in the head from Mac and was told, “That does it for you. I’ll be callin’ your Mom and Dad. Do not come in that door again ... ever. Threaten to burn down my place? In front of witnesses? You better damn well hope nothing happens for the foreseeable future. Get out!”

They all got, grumbling and moaning. One boy was heard to whine, “When my Daddy gets home he’s gonna beat what my Momma left over.”

Tony turned to Mac. “You gonna be okay?”

Mac nodded. “Yeah. They won’t come back. Their families are okay. Just that one small group is out of control. Most of their fathers aren’t around, and their mothers have to work. They’re at loose ends and get into trouble. I think they’re gonna be okay with Jarod and Isaac out of the picture. I’ll drop a word with the sheriff and judge. Get them into a community service program or something.” He grinned evilly. “I know the sponsor; he’ll find things for them to do. Think the ballpark fences all need paint.”

Gibbs snickered, having had his own experience with fence-painting in the heat of summer. “Yeah, that’ll take some of the starch out of ‘em. Good luck.”

Mac nodded. “Thanks. Keep it between the ditches.”

Gibbs nodded then glanced at the register. He could see Tony tucking some change into his pocket so he assumed that the bill was settled. He was right, so they mounted their motors and headed for the highway and their next stop, which was Knoxville, TN, which was four and a half hours away, if traffic cooperated.

Jimmy grumbled, “Four hours plus with nothing. Isn’t there something fun to stop at?”

Tony sighed into his microphone. “No idea. Tim always takes care of that sort of thing. We could maybe find a tourist thing and get some brochures or something.”

Remy offered, “If we get there early, we could go see Seminole Pete. He got a ‘gator show. Maybe take a tour or somet’in.”

The general consensus was, as they were on a main artery instead of the back roads they usually took, they should just make the run down as quickly as possible. They could see some sights before the reunion, help out around the place, and relax.

Jimmy sighed. “We need to pull over for a bit so I can do a search and find someplace. Maybe make reservations.”

They agreed to look for a rest area.

Tony finally motioned to pull over.

They were passing a safety rest area with a small cluster of picnic tables and a small brick building with restrooms. He parked, turned off the motor and got off. He stretched and grumbled, “One glass of tea too many. Shit wants out.”

Jimmy snorted. “Yeah, me too. I’ll do my search and, while I’m takin’ a piss, you can decide where we’re stayin’.” He shifted to the back seat of his trike and pulled the laptop out of its pocket. He did a quick search, then headed for the facilities, calling over his shoulder, “Someone look for a good restaurant within walking distance.”

Tony sighed, finished his business, and went to the sink to wash his hands. He glanced into the mirror and realized that he was really scruffy-looking. He hadn’t shaved that morning, and his beard was darker than his hair by at least three shades. He chuckled to himself; vacation was under weigh. 

Jimmy joined him, looking just as scruffy. “Ought to shave, but ...Meh. Not.” He splashed a bit of water on his face and dried it on his sleeve.

“Find anything worth finding?” Tony headed for the door.

“I found a lot. I’m not pickin’. We’ll vote on the top ... three?” Jimmy went to lean over Remy’s shoulder. “See anything?”

Remy pointed. “That’s good, stayed there before. An’ it won’t break the bank.”

.

Chapter 3

 

The place was a Country Inns and Suites and was actually in Cedar Bluff. That was good, as they wouldn’t be dealing with city traffic at a bad time of day. There were several chain restaurants in the area, but nothing in walking distance. They decided that, since they had to get the motors out anyway, they’d take a look at two places that seemed good. One was Mama Mia’s Italian, and the other was Mexico Lindo.

It took them another two hours of easy traveling to get to the hotel. They parked near the portico and trooped into the lobby to check in. 

The clerk looked up with a faint smile. “How may I help you?”

Jimmy handed his iPad to the man and replied, “I made reservations on the road. Don’t have a printer on my trike, so this is what I’ve got.”

The clerk looked at the pad and nodded. “It’s okay. This happens from time to time, so we’re set up to deal. If I may?” He reached out for the tablet which Jimmy let him have. He hooked it up to his system and took a copy of the file for their check-in records. “Here we go, all set. You’ve been assigned a suite that will sleep all of you. If that’s not acceptable, I’ll give you three doubles, but they’re on different floors.” He waited a moment.

Tony looked the group over. “Together or buddy up?” The visual consensus was “Together,” so he turned to the desk clerk and said, “Suite.”

James nodded. “Excellent. Any special services you need?”

Gibbs thought for a second then asked, “Good restaurants?”

James pulled a services map out of a rack at his elbow. “Depends on what you’re in the mood for. Koko’s is good sushi. Mexico Lindo is great mexican. And there’s a Cracker Barrel that is really good breakfast. Their lunch is good too. Dinner? Not so much. Mama Mia is great Italian and there’s a Thai place that is good. Unfortunately, there’s not a single place within walking distance. I marked my favorite places with checkmarks. Anything else?” He handed the map to Tony.

Gibbs shook his head. “Don’t think so.” He took the map out of Tony’s hand, glanced at it, then handed it off to Jimmy. “Keep track of the paperwork.”

Jimmy just took the map, the papers that James pulled out of the printer, and the key cards. “Thanks.” He gave a card to everyone, then shoved the papers into a file folder.

“We’ll get our own luggage.” Dean took charge of that. “Cos? Get our stuff, okay?”

Cos just ambled off with Remy to retrieve their go-bags and shaving kits. “We’ll be up in five.”

It didn’t take them long to find the suite, get their luggage, and set up housekeeping. Gibbs examined the rooms; three large bedrooms with two full-sized beds in each, surrounded a sitting room with a big-screen TV and a conference table. There was a conversation grouping near the sliding glass doors, which lead onto a long, narrow balcony. Each bedroom had its own bath, which was a relief. 

Gibbs nodded. “I’m makin’ coffee.” He went to the wet bar behind the conference table and started the eight-cup coffeemaker. He also hunted up a pressure pot. “Great. We’ll have coffee in five.”

Jimmy, tasked with assigning berths, announced, “It’s not that hard. Dean, Cos. Remy, AJ. Jet, me. Not breakin’ up battle buddies.”

Everyone grabbed their saddle bags and went to their rooms, assigned by the simple method of Jimmy pointing at the nearest group and the first room on his left and saying, “Dean, Cos; there. Remy, AJ; there. Jet and I take that one.” 

Tony grumbled, “I really want a shower. And, since we’re going into public, I need to shave.” He ambled toward their room, bags in hand. 

Gibbs called after him. “AJ, check out the hot water. Never run out in a place like this, but there’s always a first time.”

“Gotcha.” Tony waved over his shoulder.

It wasn’t long before Tony returned, showered and shaven, dressed in casual Dockers and Rugby jersey, with bare feet and dripping hair. “Shower is heaven on earth. The water ... well, we won’t worry about running out.” He flopped down on a couch. “What’s on?”

Remy tossed him the remote. “Usual crap on cable. Some idiot thing on Iran and some cooking shit.”

Tony snagged the remote. “No movies.”

“Only Pay-per.” Remy rummaged through the magazines on the coffee table. Most of them were advertising flyers for various services, attractions, and entertainments available in the area, but one was a guide specific to the offerings on the hotel’s cable service. “And ... here we go.” he started flipping through it. “Not a damn thing.”

Tony got the news, then shrugged. “Pack of cards.”

Dean threw one at his head. “Here.”

“Fucker.” Tony drawled. He snatched the deck out of the air without really looking and tossed it on the table. “For later.”

Cos flopped down on the couch, nearly bouncing Tony off. “Jerk.”

“Kiss it. Where are we going to eat?” Cos picked up the map that Jimmy had dropped on the table so everyone could look at it.

Tony said, “We need to wait until everyone’s here.”

“True.” Cos eyed the TV for a few moments, then went to sleep.

It was about a half an hour before everyone was ready. Then they sat down at the conference table, and Jimmy read the descriptions for the better restaurants in the area. “Not too sure about any of the Mom n’ Pop things around here. They’re usually common as dirt. Not too sure about Thai. My stomach doesn’t like lemon grass that much.”

Tony poked at his tablet for a moment. “Italian? There’s a couple of three-and-a-half-stars nearby.”

“And that one Mexican place is four-star.” Gibbs sounded a bit doubtful.

Jimmy flipped through the magazine. “There’s Koko’s if you want Japanese, and a Chinese place that’s three-star plus.”

Remy’s phone rang. “‘Lo?” He listened for a moment, then said something in Cajun. After a bit more, he shut his phone and announced. “Ma’Mere been flooded out at Bayou St. Dennis, so we gon’ to Davant. Ver’ small town.”

Tony sat down beside Remy and gripped his shoulder. “She okay?”

“Oui. She fine. House gone. But we been tryin’ to get ‘er into town for years. She say she stay wit’ Marie for now.” Remy rubbed his face.

“You okay?” Gibbs settled on Remy’s other side while Dean and Cosmo watched with concern.

“Yeah. Just a bit of a shock. But Marie live in Davant. Population’s not big, and most are related one way or another.” Remy looked a bit lost for a moment. “Dat house ... we all spent summers there and ran the swamps like ... Don’ know.”

Tony sighed. “It’ll be okay. We’ll help build her a new house, if she needs it. Now. Food.”

Remy shook it off and announced. “Italian. Comfort food if I can’t get Cajun. An’ I’m not eatin’ anything folks around here call Cajun. Insult to everything I hold dear.”

There was general laughter over that, and Tony assured Remy that, “No. No, man, just no. Not eatin’ anything Cajun this far north.” He thought for a moment then said, “So ... Italian. We need five stars. Jimmy, work some magic.”

Jimmy was already poking at his tablet. “Okay. Mama Mia’s is ... like ... three and a half. The Gondolier is four-star and not that far. But it’s posted as pizza and sandwiches. Not really Italian.”

They finally settled on Mama Mia’s as good enough and fairly close. 

Since they were riding in the city, and city drivers seemed to be determined to drive motors off the streets, they all donned leathers for the ride. They all favored chaps instead of leather pants, so jeans were the dress code of the ride, with leather jackets and heavy boots.

This created a rather threatening air, as the smallest of them was Gibbs at six-foot even and a tidy two hundred pounds. The largest of them was actually Cosmo at six feet, four inches, and a whippet-thin two hundred pounds. It seemed odd that Gibbs was well set up but Cosmo was a bit skinny; the four-inch difference in height made a lot of difference in appearance. Remy was heavier than they were by about twenty pounds, but he was all chest and shoulders, just as Tony was. Dean and Jimmy were neck-and-neck with Tony and Remy with a bare inch difference in height and a scant ten pounds difference between the four of them.

They all also seemed to be able to walk quietly in heavy boots, so when they left the elevator the clerk jumped a foot. Dean noticed and gave the new person an easy smile. She smiled back a bit hesitantly.

When she realized who they were she scurried out from behind the desk and called, “Wait! I need ...” she froze as she was faced with six laser-like gazes. 

Gibbs realized what had happened and took charge. “Okay. You go on to the motors. I’ll deal.” He turned to the girl and waited while the rest of the pod made their way to the motors. “What do you need?”

“Um ... we don’t like motorcycles parked there. It’s not good ...” she realized how that sounded and babbled. “Not that there’s anything wrong with nice bikes like those ... it’s just ... well, we get people ... other guests ... that can’t seem to keep their hands off stuff. I’d hate to see some jerk knock them all over ... like dominoes ... we had that happen and ... it wasn’t good. No offense meant.” She gulped a couple of times giving Gibbs a hopeful look.

“None taken. If you don’t want us parking out front ... where do we park?”

“Oh! If you drive around the back, there’s another door which your key will open. Right by the door there’s a shelter. Just a roof thing. Park under that; it’s right by the security booth. We prefer convertible cars, motorcycles, and expensive vehicles to be parked there so the guards can keep a better eye on them.” She gave him a hesitant smile.

“Okay. We can do that. We need any sort of paperwork or anything?” Gibbs understood quite well that a pack of motors didn’t look good parked in front of much of anywhere. 

“No, just your key cards. The guard might have you swipe them through his hand-held just to make sure you actually have a room.” She smiled again. “Thank you so much.” She looked back at the desk to see a couple waiting patiently for her. “Oh, darn, better go.” 

Gibbs watched her hurry away with a slight smile. He turned to join his friends, shaking his head a bit. “Okay, what we’ve got is new parking, in the back right next to the guard booth.” He explained everything over the com as they got mounted up and ready to move out. 

They made the ride in about ten minutes, despite the efforts of local traffic to put them all in a ditch. Tony swore, “Son-of-a-bitch! I swear every red-neck yokel in a pickup has it out for us.” He watched as the dark red Ford switched lanes again, cutting off the dark navy blue Ford Escalade. “Uh-oh. Looks like he just cut off a LEO.” They hung back a bit to give the cop room to pull the offender over.

They laughed as they rode by the pulled-over truck. The driver looked pissed; the cop just looked tired. 

Mama Mia’s was located in a small strip mall just off the highway. It was unassuming, bland, and a bit off-putting, but the parking lot was nearly full, so they parked to give it a look. As they had worn chaps instead of pants they all unzipped the legs, took them and their jackets off, and stashed them in the saddlebags; helmets went into the helmet trunk, and they were ready to go in.

The entryway proved that they were in the right place. It was neat and clean, decorated in classic Italian Restaurant style. There was a small seating area with a sign that said, “Please wait to be seated” on a stand-up. Everyone sat down. They didn’t have long to wait before a young woman came out to ask, “How many in your party?”

Tony stood up to speak to her; staying seated while speaking was rude. “Six. Name: DiNozzo.”

“Thank you. It won’t be very long; we’re just clearing a table now. I’ll just take a quick look. Back in a jiff.” She smiled politely and went back into the main room. She returned almost at once with the news that the table was clean and ready for them.

They followed her through the room to a large circular table tucked into an alcove; as it was a table for 12 or so; they were very happy. They could all get their backs to a wall.

The hostess watched blankly as they moved chairs around to accomplish this. After the shuffling was done, she motioned to an older woman and said, “This is Maria. She’ll be your server tonight.” Then she walked away.

Maria nodded to the group. “I’ll bring menus and water in a moment. The special of the evening is Eggplant Parmesan with a salad and garlic bread, or Veal Piccata with a side of spaghetti a la Puttanesca and garlic bread. We also have the house speciality of Capellini De Angelico con Scampi e Mollusco.” she smiled. “That’s really good. It’s shrimp and clams cooked in white wine, butter, garlic, and shallots, then chief adds cream and parmesan cheese, pepper and parsley. It’s served over angel hair pasta with the usual sides.” She headed for the serving station to get menus and water.

“It all sounds really good.” Tony sniffed. “Smells good too. Maybe we could get family-style.”

Gibbs eyed the decor. “Place like this? I doubt it. Wonder if they have anything endless-plate. That’d do the job.”

Marie overheard that and returned to say, “Sorry. No endless plate. We got cleaned out by construction workers about a year ago. Management put the kibosh on that real quick. But I do think you’ll find the servings adequate. Anyone want a drink? Wine, beer, cocktail?”

Everyone shook their heads. They were riding motorcycles, which made drinking three times as dangerous as drinking while driving a car. Marie nodded. “Okay, then.” She nodded to a young man who’d brought a tray and stand to the table. “Water. Coffee?” Everyone turned their cups up so she started pouring and passing out menus. “Ok. I’ll be back in five with more coffee and to take your orders.” She walked away, empty pot in hand to tell the manager, “Keep an eye on that table. I know combat vets when I see ‘em. They came in on bikes, but I don’t think they’ll cause trouble. Unless some jackass starts it.”

The manager nodded, glanced at the table, then said, “Keep the cups full, and endless bread sticks.”

Maria just nodded and went to make more coffee, muttering in Italian as she went.

She returned to the table with a huge basket of bread sticks and another pot of coffee. She promptly emptied it into their empty cups. “There you go. If you want more bread, just let me know. Salads are on the way.” She shook her head. “I swear, I’m gonna kill that prep guy. He was supposed to be in an hour and a half ago; still a no-show.” She noticed a couple of expressions and answered the unasked questions. “No, he’s only 18, never been away from home. He’s just a party animal. He’s hung over or I miss my guess. Tom will call his Mom. If he is, he’s done.” She smiled at them all, then went away to fetch their salads.

Tony stretched, arms over head. “Man, I feel good. We’ve got ten days of no cases, no ops, no nothing we don’t want to do. Great.”

Dean nodded. “It is. And I’m gonna eat ... everything. Wonder if Ma’mere will have ‘gator.”

Remy thought about that for a moment. “Do’an know. She usually does but ... what with things goin’ the way they did, might not.”

Cosmo interjected, “If she doesn’t, we could get a license and get her one.”

Gibbs blinked, “License? Get one?”

Remy nodded. “Sure. Got to meet a few regs, but that’s not a problem. Ma’mere will have tags an’ such. We’ll just fill hers.”

Jimmy asked, “Is that legal?

“Not strictly, but the Game Warden is a cousin and won’t put up a fuss. They mostly do because guides try to dodge the fees. It’s $150 dollars a person, but, since it’s for food instead of sport, no one will say much.” Remy shrugged in that way he had. “Sides, I know where the bodies are sunk.”

Gibbs questioned that. “Sunk? Don’t you mean buried?”

Remy snickered then said, “Man, you try to dig a hole in a damn swamp? Good luck with that.”

They all laughed over that. Gibbs agreeing, “True. How fast does the hole fill?”

“Fast as you can dig, most places.” Remy brightened as Maria came by with more bread. “Food soon?”

Maria grinned. “Soon as you order.”

They went around the table ordering. Marie had to smile, as most of them ordered the second special of the day, Veal Piccata with a side of spaghetti al la Puttanesca and garlic bread. Except for Gibbs and Tony, who ordered Capellini De Angelico con Scampi e Mollusco. Marie nodded. “Ok, since you ordered specials, it won’t take long. Everything’s freshly cooked, but we prep in advance what we can. Twenty minutes.” She nodded at Remy. “You won’t starve before then, will you?”

Remy gave her a mournful face. “Don’t know. Probably not.”

Maria just snorted softly and went into the kitchen to drop their orders at the pass. She yelled through, “Hey! Get it out fast. They’re chewing the furniture.” The laugh she got back made her smile.

People in the dining room heard too and the whole pod snickered softly. A young voice was heard from a side room. “Mom, are they really chewing the furniture?” An indistinct mumble assured him that they were not. “Are you sure? Maybe you should check. You said that destruction of private poperty was a crime.” It wasn’t long before a head popped out of the side room. The woman eyed them for a moment then disappeared again.

Everyone noticed of course, but no one felt like investigating; they just wanted to eat. It wasn’t long before the same young voice announced, “I’m goin’ potty.” They watched as a boy about six or seven trotted out of the room and straight to the Men’s Room. It wasn’t long before he was back out and headed for their table with all the determination a six-year-old could muster.

“You be good.” The blond tyke pointed his little finger right at the table. “I don’t want Mom to ‘rest you for bein’ bad.”

Tony gave the kid a wide-eyed rather stunned look and said, “Huh?”

He got that look that all children can manage, the one that implies ‘You’re the adult, act like it.’ He sighed audibly. “If you chew on the furniture, it’s poperty ...” he frowned, “Somethin’. I forget. But you get ‘rested for it. An’ Mom hates the paperwork. So don’t do it. I want ice cream.” And with that he turned and trotted back to his seat in the other room, calling loudly, “Mom, I told ‘em to be good.”

Only seconds later a woman emerged from the side room, red-faced and steaming. She came to the table, “Hey. Excuse me.” She pushed a lock of hair out of her face. “I’m really sorry about Billy. He’s ...” She waved a hand, at a loss for words.

Tony shrugged. “Cute. Little guy’s got his priorities straight. Anything that interferes with ice cream is bad.” He put on his most charming smile. 

The woman sighed, then laughed. “Lily Reynolds. Sheriff of this county.”

Gibbs stood up to shake her hand. “Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Special Agent, NCIS.” He went around the table introducing everyone. Noticing her expression, he explained, “We’re just goin’ through. Road trip.”

Lily nodded. “Okay. I did wonder why a bunch of Feds came into my territory.” She grinned. “Good to know. Now ... be good so Billy can have his ice cream.” She turned, waving over her shoulder and headed back for her table, saying, “William James Reynolds ...”

Dean winced visibly. “Ouch. She middle-named him. Kid’s in trouble.”

Cosmo just offered, “I hope he gets his ice cream.”

They were all silenced as their salads came.

Maria set the plates in front of them with a tiny flourish. “There you go. You need anything else, you let me know.”

Gibbs eyed his salad with pleasure. It was on a plate instead of in a tiny bowl and was a mix of iceberg lettuce, Romaine, and spring greens, covered with tomato wedges, croutons, olives, and parmesan cheese. The dressing was a plain house Italian made with olive oil, apple cider and balsamic vinegar, sugar, basil, crushed garlic, and salt and pepper. 

Everyone made appreciative noises as they started in on the greens. Remy exclaimed, “Ah! Mozzarella in the bread sticks. So good.” So everyone grabbed one of the buttery, cheese-stuffed goodies to have a taste themselves. They were just as good as Remy said they were.

They finished their salads quickly. Dean remarked, “Man, I was a lot hungrier than I thought. Hope Maria brings out the rest of the food soon.”

Maria overheard, so she came to the table and said, “I heard that. I’ll run back and see if things are done yet. Okay?”

Someone replied, “Great. Thanks.” so she hurried off to the pass. “Hey! Table Ten ready yet? They’re done with the salad and bread and looking for their mains.” 

“Comin’ right up. Nearly done with the Puttanesca. Start taking the rest out as it’s plated, will you?” 

Maria quickly picked up the first plates and put them on her tray. “Got it. All the Veal done?”

“Yeah. And the Capellini just needs finished. It’ll be done with the Puttanesca.”

Maria eyed her tray. “I’ll take it in two trips. Back in a flash.”

She took the first tray to the table. “The veal is done, so I’m serving it now. Everything else will be done by the time I get back to the pass. Here you go.” She distributed the veal around the table. “I’m going to leave my stand up. If you would make sure no one trips on it, I’d appreciate it.”

Tony nodded. “Okay. I’ve got it.”

“Thanks, hun. Back in a sec.” Maria left to get the rest of the food, secure in the knowledge that no unobservant stumblebum would trip over the three-foot-tall, silver folding tray stand.

She returned just in time to see Tony guide a man who was texting around the obstacle, saying, “Dude, put that away and watch where you’re going.” The embarrassed man tucked his phone into a pocket and scurried toward the men’s room. Tony shook his head in disgust as he sat back down.

Maria plopped her tray on the stand and started handing out mains. “There we are.” She put the parmesan grater and pepper grinder on the table, then checked drinks. “Anything else?” She was greeted with head shakes, as they all had their mouths full.

Gibbs poked a shrimp with his fork and sighed happily. “Shrimp isn’t overdone.”

Tony, mouth full of mussel, nodded, swallowed, and added, “Mussels aren’t either. Really good.” 

Remy added, “Veal’s great, done without being dried out.”

The entire table went silent while everyone enjoyed their food.

Maria dropped by a couple of times to refill water and coffee; she smiled when Gibbs said, “Food is great. Compliments to the chef.” Maria nodded, smiled again and went away.

Tony sighed. “This is so good.” He turned to Remy, “Is the veal really that good?”

Remy just cut a bite off and put it on Tony’s bread plate. “There. Taste for yourself. You want some of the Puttanesca too?”

“Please. I really hate making decisions like this. What I get is always good, but everything else looks so good too.” He grinned. “One of the reasons I love buffets.”

Gibbs snorted softly. “No, you love buffets because you’re a hog. True fact.” 

Tony gave Gibbs an indignant look and said petulantly, “So not true. Who went through five times last week?” He pointed at Gibbs. “Not me.”

Gibbs just forked up another bite of his pasta and stuffed it into his mouth.

Dean gave Tony a sideoogle. “Yeah, Jet went through five times. But you went through ... let me count ... six. I do believe it was six. Bitch.”

“Asshole. It was not.”

Cosmo agreed with Tony. “No, he didn’t go six.”

“Thank you.” Tony managed to look smug without overdoing it.

Until Cosmo went on. “It was seven.”

“Jerk!” Tony’s indignant squawk made the whole table snicker.

“Not. It’s just the truth. Truth hurts, man.” Cosmo finished his bread stick with a flourish and reached for another. He glowered when Dean snatched it before he could get to it. “Hey!” Dean just made pig noises at him.

Gibbs gave him a warning glower and ordered, “Stop that. Act your age, not your IQ.”

The table calmed down at once. They all knew that they got too rowdy from time to time, but they were all still young. Gibbs could get just as rowdy as they did, but he seemed to have a better grasp of time and place than they did. They didn’t mind, but did tend to tease him by calling him Gramps.

Dean hunched one shoulder. “Sorry, Jet.”

Gibbs nodded. “ ‘Kay. Just don’t scare the locals.”

Maria came to the table with more bread, coffee, and the offer of, “Desert? Tiramisu? We’ve also got a nice carrot cake or Red Velvet.”

They settled on what they wanted and returned to their meal to finish so Maria could take the plates. She came back in just a few minutes with another tray full of plates. She nipped empties out from in front of them and replaced them with the proper deserts with skills born of long practice. “There you go. I’ll be back with more coffee in a sec.” She walked away, taking her tray full of empties with her.

Several minutes later they all leaned back nearly in unison. Remy rumbled softly, “Delicious. I’m full as a tick.”

Jimmy eyed Remy for a moment then opined, “That’s one of the most disgusting expressions on earth. Just ... blood-sucking insect ... ick.”

Remy rolled his eyes at Jimmy. “It’s just an expression, you big girl.”

“It’s just a disgusting expression. Jerk.”

Tony sighed. “Enough. It is disgusting, LeBeau. Think about it.”

Remy frowned into the dregs of his coffee for a moment then shrugged, allowing, “Might be. But ... been hearin’ and sayin’ it all my life.” He finished his coffee, brightened and offered, “We headin’ out soon? I’m ready for a sit-down.”

Maria showed up again. “Check.” She grinned. “Thank you for your patronage, please come again.” Her expression showed that the last was the obligatory smarm management insisted on.

There was a bit of a scramble as Jimmy collected Maria’s tips while Tony and Remy went to pay at the register. Tim had set up a single credit card for the pod to use in this sort of situation. They kept individual track of who owed what and settled up once a month. 

Maria took her tip with a big smile and waved to them as they ambled out the front door to mount their motors and head off. They were greeted with Billy and Lily standing by their motors. Billy had that awed look that kids his age got.

“Mom, I wanna sit on one.” There was a definite whine there.

“No. It’s not yours to mess with. And sitting on someone else’s motorcycle is just rude. Would you like it if someone wandered into your room and laid down on your bed?” Lily sounded like Billy was on her last fraying nerve.

“No. But ... well.” Billy sounded frustrated but willing to understand. “What if I asked really nice?”

“If they come out in the next five minutes, you can. But I’m due on duty in forty-five and we just don’t have time.” The source of Lily’s frustration was now evident.

Gibbs took the whole thing in hand. “Hey. If it’s okay with you, he can sit on my motor. But only sit. I don’t have a helmet small enough for him.”

Billy jumped in place, happily exclaiming, “Yay!” He calmed a bit and told Gibbs. “Only sit. Mom said I can’t ride with anyone until I’m strong enough to hold on tight.” He squealed happily when Gibbs swung him off his feet and sat him on the seat. 

“There you go.” Gibbs kept a hand on Billy so he wouldn’t slide off and hurt himself. “Sit still now.”

Billy happily made ‘vroom’ noises until Lily said, “Sorry, honey, we have to go. I’ll be late to clock in if we don’t go right now.”

Billy groaned, “Awww, Mom,” but obediently held his hands up for Gibbs to lift him off.

Gibbs did and set him on his feet, making sure he had his balance before he let go. Billy looked up and said, “Thank you. It’s really nice. I like the color.” He turned. “Mom, when I’m old enough, I want one just like that. Color and everything.”

Lily smiled at Gibbs. “Thanks, Agent Gibbs.” She looked down. “We’ll see. Depends. Now, we really gotta go.” She took Billy’s hand, thanked everyone again, and trotted off for her car; Billy waved one last time then obediently followed her.

They watched as Lily got Billy into the van and drove away; Billy gave them one last wave as they turned into the street.

“Well. Cute kid,” Tony grinned. “You’re really good with kids, Jet.”

Gibbs shrugged. “No idea why. Mount up.” They all got on their motors and drove back to the hotel, thankfully without incident. They circled the building and found the canopy and guard shack right where the clerk had said it would be. They eased in, parked, dropping kickstands almost in unison, and went to the shack to see what they needed to do next.

The guard was young, but seemed to know his business. The first thing he did was ask for key cards as proof of residence. “I know ... it’s a bit stupid, because who the heck would pull a stupid stunt like parking without proof; good way to get towed. So. I also need ID.”

They produced IDs for the young man and waited while he scanned key cards, inspected IDs, and wrote notes on a clipboard. “There. All done. This way the day man knows who you are and won’t give you grief when you’re ready to leave. About what time will that be?”

Tony shrugged easily. “Not really sure, but somewhere around 0800. What time does Cracker Barrel open?”

“About six. They’re supposed to open at six on the dot, but sometimes they’re a bit late.” He tucked his clipboard away in a rack, smiled, and nodded as they all headed into the back hall.

They found the suite easily enough and settled in to watch TVand argue over cards until they got tired. Contrary to popular belief, they didn’t stay up all night gambling and drinking. In fact, the last of them, Tony, was in bed by 2100. 

One thing that moving in with Ducky had accomplished, much to everyone’s surprise: Tony now fell asleep easily and slept at least five hours, unless he was working on something. But he was much less tense all around.

.

Gibbs woke at 0530 to the smell of good coffee drifting into his room. He rolled over to check on Jimmy and saw that he was sitting up, stretching lazily. “Coffee.”

Jimmy nodded. “Shower.” 

They both clambered out of bed, Gibbs headed for the lounge, Jimmy for the bathroom.

Gibbs grabbed the mug that Tony pushed in his direction and gulped. “Ah! Great stuff.” he finished off the mug and held it out for more. 

Tony poured more, but snickered as Remy took the mug right out of Gibbs’ hand, swallowed half, then mumbled, “Thanks, Jet.” Tony shrugged and poured more, leaving filled mugs on the conference table for the others to take. 

It didn’t take long for everyone to show. Remy grabbed another mug, putting his empty in its place. Dean and Cosmo just drank what was on the table. Jimmy shambled out, still only half-awake, hair wet, and put his mug in the microwave. He eyed the thing for a moment then sighed, “I do have coffee, right?”

Tony, on his second cup, set the microwave for 20 seconds and turned it on. “It’s gonna be hot,” he warned.

Jimmy grumbled but took a careful test sip. “ ’S okay.”

It took about twenty minutes for them all to get cleaned up and ready to go. They settled at the conference table with one last cup of coffee to decide what to do for the day.

Gibbs offered, “As we’re not taking unreliable, unknown back roads for the scenery, I vote we book it.”

Tony nodded. “Since Remy’s Ma’mere is in need. I second. All in favor?” Every hand went up, with Remy abstaining. “Okay. Where do we want to eat breakfast?”

Jimmy shook his head. “I’m still full from last night. I could do with a slice of toast or something like that and some juice, but I really don’t feel like full breakfast.”

They took another vote and the consensus was that they were all still full and only wanted a top-off. 

Dean had been idly looking over the hotel services brochure while they talked; now he pointed to a picture. “Continental breakfast in the lobby from 0600 to 1000. That’ll do us.”

Cosmo finished the last of his coffee and put the mug in the sink. “Maybe we can get a sweet roll. Don’t really need much.”

They all put their mugs in the sink and policed the area a bit. After they were done, they gathered their stuff; Remy took one last look for stray belongings, then they took the elevator down, jamming themselves into the car in a scramble. Gibbs barked, “You lugnuts settle down. I get an elbow...” a sharp grunt finished the sentence as Jimmy’s elbow drove into his gut and forced all the air out of his lungs.

Jimmy tried to turn around but they were jammed. “I’m sorry. Really.”

Tony figuratively threw up his hands. “Ten-hut! Eyes front!” Both commands were obeyed, training taking over before they could think. “No one move.” Tony couldn’t get turned around either, but he asked, “Jet?”

“I’m okay... Just got ... an elbow ... between wind ... and water.” Gibbs gasped out. He rubbed his stomach and managed to choke in enough air to straighten up.

Jimmy was working on a hysterical babble-fest, but Gibbs poked him in the back. “Not your fault.” Jimmy stayed at attention, eyes front; but everyone heard his sigh of relief.

The elevator doors opened, and Tony barked, “As you were. Get the fuck out,” so they all trooped out of the elevator heading for the buffet breakfast set up in the lobby.

They were happy to see a decent selection of sweet rolls, biscuits, toast, and dry cereal. There was milk in half-pint cartons and juice in foil-covered containers, as well as coffee, and hot water to go along with the basket of tea bags. Another basket had packets of jelly; beside it sat a bowl full of ice and tubs of margarine.

They raided the table like the horde of locusts they’d been compared to, startling the day clerk and manager as they squabbled companionably over toast, cereal, and juices. 

Remy noticed an elderly couple hovering in a hall. They looked like they were going to retreat, foregoing breakfast. He ambled over, smiling gently. “Do’an worry ‘bout that mess. We’s all ami ‘er.” his soft, southern accent made the woman smile.

“Louisiana.” She looked up at him, smiling back. “Is there any tea?”

Remy nodded and offered her his arm. “Is. Mon nom est Remiel Devereaux.”

“I’m Emma Landry and this is my husband, Frank.” She poked her husband in the side. “Frank, don’t be such a sourpuss.”

Gibbs just handed the man a cup of coffee, remarking, “Hope you can take it weak and lukewarm. Sugar? Cream?”

Frank took the cup, shook his head at the offered additions, sipped, and scowled, “Not exactly what I’d call coffee. Sorta ... ditch water. It’ll do until I can find better. Thanks.”

There was a quick flurry of bodies as the others cleared a table for the elderly couple and helped Emma into a chair. Dean offered the tray of sweet rolls, which he’d brought to the table. “Roll? They’re fresh. Or there’s biscuits, butter, and jelly. Or some toast?”

Emma and Frank weren’t quite sure what to make of this bunch of bikers fawning over them, but they enjoyed it. Frank decided to grab the bull by the horns. “Why are you being so nice to us?”

Dean shrugged. “My folks would slap me silly for scaring you. We’re ... just a bunch of guys on a road trip. Kinda creeped me out when I realize that you were scared of us.”

Emma eyed them with a grandmotherly eye. “Well, you don’t look like Hell’s Angels or anything, so what are you?”

Gibbs shrugged, sipped his coffee then answered, “Those three are SEALs.” He pointed to Remy, Dean and Cosmo. “He’s a Medical Examiner,” his finger jabbed at Jimmy. “That one is a mess, being both a SEAL and an NCIS Special Agent.” Tony bowed elaborately. “And me? Marine Master Gunny, retired at rank, and his boss at NCIS.” Gibbs jumped as both Emma and Frank stood up and saluted. The whole pod returned the salute.

Frank pointed to Emma. “She retired at twenty, me too. Army Medical Corp. I was a Medic, and she was a Combat Support Hospital nurse. Kuwait.” He grinned. “Sit down before you fall down.” They all scrambled to get seated. 

Emma nodded. “Better. Now. Tell.” No one questioned that order. Gibbs nodded to Tony, who just started telling the couple who they were and what they did. 

Jimmy listened to Tony as he told stories, keeping them all amused with his funny but insightful comments. He finally sighed. “Guys, we need to get on the road if we want to avoid traffic.”

Frank looked at his watch. “Well, hell. We’re gonna get caught in traffic hell if we don’t scatter.” He got up, pulling Emma to her feet too. “Thanks, boys; take care.” 

Emma smiled and offered her hand to Gibbs. “Pleasure to meet you, Master Gunny.” He shook her hand then Frank’s. This sparked a round of ‘Pleased to meet you’s and handshakes. They then split; Emma and Frank headed for the front, while the pod went out the back.

They were met by the day security guard, who just asked to see ID or a key card. Since Jimmy had turned in all but one, they were good. He presented the card and said, “The desk clerk asked me to tell you to keep it since we’re checked out.”

The guard swiped the card, checked ID, nodded, and said, “Good. Drive carefully and have a nice day.” He glanced from clipboard to man, checked everyone a second time, then just walked away sticking earbuds into his ears as he went.

Tony shook his head. “They get worse every year. He was good about checking the ID and whatnot, but he should keep an eye on us until we’re gone.”

Jimmy agreed, “Yeah; what if one of us is an extra and drives away in a car?”

“Exactly.” Gibbs agreed. “But ... not my circus, not my monkeys. Mount up.”

They did exactly that, checked radios, and roared away, scaring the security guard half out of his wits by unintentionally peppering his tin shack with gravel from the parking lot. They probably wouldn’t have cared if they did; sticking your face in Thrash magazine and wearing sound-blocking earbuds wasn’t really a good way to guard anything.

They were soon on the interstate and headed south. Traffic wasn’t that bad, as they were ahead of the rush of people going to or leaving church services. They were happy to find the I-40 wasn’t crowded; in fact, they were nearly the only people on the road. It was still very early for most people.

Tony’s voice came over the com. “It’s 0630. I checked before we left, and the drive will take just over niner hours at cruise. If we crank it, we can make it in ten, with ten-minute stops every couple of hours and a half-hour for lunch in Birmingham or Tuscaloosa ... maybe. Comment?” The click of his mic cutting out let them know that he was waiting.

Gibbs asked, “Why are we making a run for it?”

“Ma’mere needs a new house. Right?” 

Remy answered, “She do. We gonna build it?”

“Damn straight,” Dean replied.

Gibbs thought for a beat. “Ok. I’m in. We could just stop at a Taco Bell or something. Not like we’ll starve.”

“Got it. Drive for four hours, stop somewhere for food, then go on.” 

They were now at the intersection of I-40 and I-75; the interchange was easy, and they were not on the first long leg of their drive. No one questioned it when Gibbs and Tony took lead, cracking the throttles up to 80 mph and roaring down the interstate. They would keep that speed until they hit Chattanooga. They slowed down for the city and agreed that they would take a rest stop after they got through the city.

Cosmo spotted a truck stop, and they pulled in to check maps, get gas, and have a bit of a walkaround. Tony ordered, “Everyone fuel up, take a piss, get a drink, walk around.”

No one saw any reason not to, so they all wandered around a bit, filled their tanks, visited the men’s room, and eyeballed the attendant. The boy looked like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to piss his pants or run, screaming, for the woods. They expected to see some form of LEO show up soon. They weren’t disappointed.

A Highway Patrol cruiser pulled in and the patrol officer got out. He hitched up his utility belt then ambled over to examine the motors. “Nice bikes. Everyone fuelin’ up on one ticket?”

Gibbs nodded; he was pumping for everyone, as it was just easier that way. “We are. Tell Chicken Little to ring everyone up on one ticket. We’ll send ...” he looked around, “Jimmy in to pay. He’s got the card.”

“Okay. Didn’t figure you all ‘ud be causin’ any trouble. I checked you out on my way through ... but Melvin is ... Melvin. Boy’s a mess. His Mama raised him alone, and the kid is scared of his shadow. I’ll just hang here so he doesn’t call HQ in a panic again.” He eyed the motors again. “Custom paint?”

“Yeah. Trike’s a custom job too.” Gibbs grinned.

The Patrolman shook his head. “I remember when we called something like that a junkyard hog.”

Gibbs nodded. “Me too. Now they’re custom-built motors, and they charge four times what they used to. We got these on a deal, as all the donors were salvage. They’re all JYH except that one,” he pointed to Tony’s motor, which was now parked by the door of the station. The officer ambled over to take a look.

He didn’t get to look, as Melvin popped out of the back of the station like a jack-in-a-box. “Officer Marcus! What are you going to do? They’re gonna murder us all. Make ‘em ... go away.” He realized that everyone was staring at him like he’d lost his mind. “What?”

Officer Marcus just took the hyper boy by an arm and dragged him back inside the station. “You sit right there behind the register and shut up. I’m gonna have a talk with your Mama. You see murderers and terrorists behind every bush. You sound demented most of the time. You sure you’re not smokin’ that wacky tabacy?” Melvin gave him such a blank look that he just walked out the door, shaking his head. “Just stay there. One of ‘em will come in and pay. If they want a drink or something just ring it into the register. An’ stop shakin’.”

“You might want to have your guys go in one at a time to get drinks an’ such. Melvin ... never mind.” Officer Marcus got on his mic and told dispatch to call the owner to send someone to relieve Melvin as he was, again, a mess. The dispatcher replied in his earpiece and he went back to his cruiser. He leaned against it, crossed his ankles and arms and settled in to wait, mumbling, “I just hope no one really needs me before we get this mess cleared up.”

Tony made a hand motion that everyone knew meant “speed it up,” so they hurried, grabbing drinks and jerky, then returning to their motor to wait for the last man to be finished. This was Jimmy, who got a bottle of orange juice and some jerky, then handed Melvin the credit card. Melvin swiped it, finished the transaction, then scurried into the room behind the counter again. Jimmy just shook his head and went back to the group.

“We done?” Gibbs glanced around.

“Just about.” Tony did his own check. “As soon as Dean gets the trash dealt with, we’ll be on our way.”

Dean finished his sweet tea, then used his plastic bag to gather all the trash and tossed it into the nearby trash can. He waved to Officer Marcus, who got into his car. They hit the highway at the same time. 

While everyone had been getting drinks and dealing with Melvin, Gibbs had used the facilities, gotten Jimmy to get him a soda, then gone to speak with Officer Marcus about their route. He’d given proper directions to get them to I-59. He headed that way and, they were soon back on a four-lane highway and headed for Tuscaloosa, AL, where they were planning on a layover of at least an hour for lunch.

When they hit the highway, Gibbs gave the signal to crank it up, and they increased speed to 80 again. The speed limit was posted at 70, but 18-wheelers were passing them like they were standing still. They stayed in the right-hand lane, stuck to their speed, and, as the saying goes, hammered on.

It took them just short of three hours to make it, which put it right at 1100. A quick run through a Subway for sandwiches, which freaked the line out as each man ordered two, and they were back on the road.

They’d been riding for about two and a half hours when Remy called a pull over. “AJ, my phone’s ringin’ for the sixth time in thirty minutes. I better answer.”

“Okay, we’ll pull over. Need to find a wide shoulder or something.”

It wasn’t long before they came to a rest area in the median. They pulled in and took advantage of the facilities while Remy returned the call. It was one of his uncles asking when they would be down. “We on the way now. Almost to Hattiesburg. Might be in around 1500 ... I mean three or so.” He listened for a moment then said. “We got three hundred cash for the food and such. Non, we all gonna stay to hep. Oui.” He closed his phone. “Ok, here’s the skinny. Ma’mere moved in wit’ Marie, but she want her own house in Davant. Glad she no movin’ back inta dat swamp. Her insurance already paid up. She got 20k.” He grinned. “That’ll build a really good house down there.”

Jimmy nodded. “If she gets one of those kit things, we could have it up in ... a week?”

Dean nodded. “Bet we could get it up sooner than that. A day for the shell, depending on how big it is. And the majority of the inside finishing done in three or four. Depends on what she wants in the way of insulation, plumbing, and that.”

Cosmo bit his lip for a moment, then offered, “Pilings. It needs to be on pilings, or the whole subfloor will rot in months.”

Remy nodded. “Folks usually put down sand, then gravel, and build the pilings of cinder blocks. I don’t like that, so we need to get stacking stone from somewhere.” He rubbed his face. “Maybe we should get our fuckin’ asses back on the damn road an’ think about this later?”

Tony nodded. “Right. Everyone think while we’re ridin’, an’ we’ll discuss all our ideas with everyone else before we decide anything for good.”

They all walked around, got a drink from the machines, used the facilities again, and hit the road.

They agreed to add thirty miles to their drive and avoid riding through New Orleans. They actually made better time by avoiding all the traffic. Since they made good time, they were pulling into Davant by 1530, tired, hungry, and dirty.

.

Chapter 4

 

They were expecting a family reunion, but no one not from the South realized that a family reunion was usually a huge affair involving multi-generations and could number in the double digits. So the yard they pulled into was crowded with people. There were about forty adults and uncountable children. The reason you couldn’t count the kids was because all children under the age of about 12 were in constant motion, like schools of minnows. 

Remy nodded to a man. “John.” They shook hands and slapped shoulders in the way of old friends. “We got beds?”

“Do that. This way. Park your wheels over there,” he waved a hand at a shed. “All the bikes go under shelter. There’s a table set up on the porch; see Annabelle.” 

Gibbs looked around and really liked what he saw. Davant was tiny, with a population of about 100 souls, most of them related in one way or another. The yard was huge, and the modern three-bedroom house was set well back from the road. Every house was on five acres of land, due to local ordinances. He didn’t see any facilities like grocery stores or anything, but he was sure they were nearby; these people weren’t going to drive all the way to New Orleans for bacon and beans. He remembered passing through a larger town about ten miles back, Phoenix maybe; it had a quick-stop/gas station right on the highway. But everything on this lot was neat, clean, in good repair.

They followed Remy to a huge metal building with three double-wide rollup doors. He pulled in the open door and parked at a young boy’s direction. They wound up parked in a cluster, with Jimmy’s trike at the back. The boy waited until they were all dismounted and putting their helmets, chaps, and jackets away to say, “Y’all don’t mind, you could leave the keys. No one ‘ud have nerve to bother your stuff, an’ we might maybe need to rearrange a bit.” 

They all looked to Remy who nodded. “Okay. Wat you doin’ wit ‘em?”

The boy shook his head. “No idea yet. Y’all’s early birds. Most a’ the folks around right now just dropped in for a bit to see Ma’mere’s okay.” he shrugged in that way of all Cajuns and added, “Most’ll be gone home for supper in half an hour or so. After-work visit.”

While they were talking, Cosmo had been poking around a bit. He came over to the boy and said, “You got a name?”

The kid, who was about sixteen, flushed, “Oh, man, where’s my manners gone beggin’? Name’s Henry.” He pronounced it ‘on-ree’. 

Cosmo grinned and introduced himself. “An’ I’m Cosmo Richter. Just call me Cos. Here ... I was snoopin’ and ...” he pointed to a bundle of paper tags on strings. “See. Use a tag on every key, put the name of the person and what vehicle it goes to on the tag. There’s an old-fashioned safe right there. Get a box for each type of vehicle, car, truck, whatever and put the keys in them. If I’m not mistaken, there’s room in that safe for at least eight boxes.”

Henry grinned. “I go ya one better. It’s got drawers right in it and hangy things, too. Daddy’s got one just like it at home. Great idea. Merci beaucoup.” He grabbed the bundle of tags and tagged their keys. “I got to get the combination from ... someone.”

Tony just snickered. “Jet?”

Gibbs, who could actually crack a safe using a stethoscope, if he had one, went to look at the safe. “You go find out if someone knows the combination; if not, get permission from the owner, and I’ll be glad to see what I can do.” 

Henry nodded. ‘Okay, I go ask. Y’all just ...” he waved a hand and hurried off.

They got their luggage off the motors and decided to leave it there, while Jimmy and Remy went to find out where they would be staying. Dean, Cosmo, and Tony wandered off to meet n’ greet, while Gibbs stayed to wait for Henry.

Henry came back with an elderly lady dressed in a neat pants-suit. “Henry says you can get that ol’ safe open,” she smiled. “George, my husband, bought that thing in an estate sale ... oh, about six months before he passed. Never got it open. If you can open it, here’s the key. I keep all keys in a box in my dresser so they don’t wander off.” She smiled at Gibbs, “Well, have at it, boy. Allons-y.”

Gibbs gave her one of his crooked grins and offered, “Just waitin’ for permission.”

“Huh! Better to ask forgiveness than beg permission. Get to it.” She made shooing motions with both hands.

Gibbs laughed outright at having one of his sayings quoted back at him, then rummaged around until he found a glass. “Need real glass. Don’t have a ‘scope, but this’ll do.”

He knew Jimmy had a stethoscope in his medic bag, but he wasn’t about to borrow it. The last time someone had disarranged Jimmy’s bag had not been pretty. And Gibbs did not want to be taken onto the mats by their geeky medic and stomped into paste. 

He put the glass against the door of the safe and began to turn the dial. He listened carefully until he heard a tumbler drop, then glanced at the dial to make sure of the number. These old safes were fairly simple, without multiple turns required, so it was turn one way, listen, turn the other, listen. It didn’t take him long to get the thing open. A pull of a lever and turn of a key had it done. He took a moment to write the combination down on a scrap of paper someone handed him. He was a bit surprised to see quite a crowd gathered around, watching him work.

Ma’mere, whose actual name turned out to be Angelique DuBois, announced, “Since you the homme who got it open, you get to empty it.”

Gibbs grinned and started pulling drawers open. The first two had papers which Ma’mere put into a briefcase to deliver to her lawyer. The next had some old money, which also went into the case. Then there was the bag of coins, obviously meant to be change, that went into the case as well. The next rank of drawers was empty, containing nothing but a bit of lint. The third rank from the top only had two drawers, bigger than the first two ranks. These proved to contain jewelry boxes of various sizes. Gibbs glanced at Ma’mere, who shook her head. He just passed the boxes over to her to stow in the case. He was glad it was a huge old-fashioned Gladstone-style bag. When he’d emptied those drawers, it was down to two pullout file-size drawers that were the scoop-fronted, slide-out type. He pulled them open to find more lint and a folder. He handed over the folder, then just pulled the drawers out and dumped the mess onto the floor. He took a moment to stir it around, finding nothing but dust and lint. “Okay, that’s it. Someone get me a dust pan and broom so I can clean up the mess.”

Ma’mere chuckled. “Dump the last of the mess and someone else can sweep it up. You come up to the house and find your bed.”

Gibbs didn’t like leaving a mess for someone else, but it was her house and, as the saying goes, “My house, my rules,” so he dumped the last of the mess and left it to Henry to deal. “Yes, ma’am. Coming.” He followed her to the wide, deep front porch to see what accommodations he had.

Ma’mere led him to the table and said, “Give Annabelle your name. She’ll know where you and that crew are.” She then went into the house, mumbling, “Swear, I’m findin’ my overhauls.” (Or does she mean “overalls”? – Jake)

Gibbs chuckled at Annabelle’s eye roll. “Ok. Where’s my rack?”

A quick check had the young woman pointing to another house. “Down there. Your whole group is sharin’ the master bedroom. It’s a Bed an’ Breakfast place. Very nice, and the only thing even vaguely resembling a hotel for about twenty miles. We’re gonna be settin’ up tents and such tomorrow, but them’s your quarters until you leave. Angels guard your sleep.”

Gibbs took the slip of paper Annabelle handed him, said, “Thank you,” and headed off to see what sort of bed he had.

It turned out that he had a very nice one. The master bedroom was huge and had two king-sized beds in it, each with its own truckle bed underneath it. The rest of the guys were already there with his stuff.

Jimmy was tearing a sheet of paper into strips when he came in. He looked up and said, “Just in time. I numbered the beds, and we’re going to draw for who sleeps where, but, since the two cots aren’t here yet, someone gets the floor tonight. I decided that we’ll rotate beds so no one has to sleep on a cot every night. Okay?”

Gibbs nodded. “Fine with me. How are we deciding for the floor?”

Tony shrugged. “Five and six get the floor.”

Dean pointed. “I’ll number the beds then.” He started with the far left and numbered them, with the truckle beds winding up odd, while the “top” beds were even. 

Cosmo pointed out that the king-size beds could each hold three. Remy pointed to Tony, “You really wanna sleep with the octopus?” This referred to Tony’s habit of star-fishing in bed. He usually wound up all over his sleeping partner; he’d hotly deny it was cuddling. “I don’ mind, but it’s hot.”

Gibbs shrugged. “I’m sure we can manage with the floor. We can get sleeping bags from someone and, doubled, they’ll do for a night.”

Just then a girl of about sixteen stuck her head in the door. “You wantin’ cots, right?”

“Yeah.” Remy went to help the girl with a huge bundle of something. He lugged it in and dumped it in the middle of the floor. “There.”

“Great. I’ll have both mattresses blown up in a bit. Cots are already in use, but I got these from my boyfriend’s Mama.” She blew a lock of hair out of her eye and gave the bundle a kick. It unrolled with a loud “fwap” and she fumbled around, trying to get the air pump hooked up.

Tony patted her hands away and did the job. “There we go.” He plugged the pump in and adjusted it. “How long should this take?”

“About five minutes each. When they’re done, give me a holler and I’ll come up and make ‘em.” She looked a bit flushed and sweaty. “I swear, Mama gets all in a lather over this every year. An’ runs the rest of us ragged. I’ve got a pile a’ beans to snap still, so I’ll just run down to the kitchen an’ work on that while this mess gets blown up.”

Cosmo gave an odd sounding snort. “Sorry. Just ...not the sort of blown up we’re used to.”

She gave him a look, then said, “I don’t even want to know. Just holler ‘Ami’ when it’s done.” She got the sheets down from the linen closet and put them on one of the beds, then hurried away to her beans.

Dean shook his head. “Not callin’ that kid back up here to make beds. She looks frazzled to bits.”

Remy agreed. “She do. She a good kid and help her Mama a lot, but she’s a kid an’ needs a break.”

Gibbs looked at Tony, who nodded, then issued orders. “Cos, you and Jimmy stay up here and deal with the beds. Remy, Dean, KP. Go see what needs doin’. Gibbs and I’ll go chop wood or something.”

Remy grinned. “Ami will be glad of the help. I shudder to think the size of the pan of bean we get to snap. And greens need washing. Potatoes. We best get ta gettin’.”

They clattered down the stairs to the kitchen, where Ami was parked at the huge slab table, snapping beans and grumbling. 

Remy said, “Ami, qoui de neuf?” he settled in another chair and started snapping beans.

Ami sighed, “Rein, Remy. Just ... I have a history test on Monday and I’m not prepared. My own fault. I forgot the reunion, so I didn’t study early. Now ... I’m gonna get a poor grade. An’ Maman is going to be home late, has to work. ”

Remy frowned. “State or Fed?”

“U.S. If it was state, I’d be fine. So ... I need to read three chapters and do the essay questions at the end. All needed handed in Monday. The reading I can cram in around everything else, but the essay I got to sit down somewhere and do. And hope no one just needs a scrap of paper for something. Last year someone grabbed a worksheet and tore it in half for scribble paper.” She shook her head at that.

Remy asked, “Teacher any help?”

“Non, made fun a’ me for bein’ Cajun. He’s not here anymore.” She grinned slyly. “He got wrong side a’ the sheriff.” She nodded at Dean. “Smooth your feathers, homme. ’S all right.”

Dean smiled and replied, “Well, I was gettin’ ready to whip his ass for you.” He eyed the pile of beans in the middle of the table. “How many more?”

“Only four more sac de marché,” She pointed under the table to four pillowcases full of green beans. “An’ den we got de patats.” She didn’t realize that she was falling more and more into patois. 

Dean shrugged. “I can peel with the best of ‘em. Bring ‘em on.”

Remy snorted and exclaimed, “I wouldn’t admit that you’re that well acquainted with KP. Homme, you’re sot.”

“Am not. Don’t know exactly what that is, you Frog-eater, but I’m not.” Dean threw a handful of unsnapped beans at Remy.

Remy snorted. “You ... cretin. There ... means the same in English as it do in Cajun. An’ you eat frogs too. Jerk.”

Ami just smacked both of them. “No horseplay in the kitchen. Too much hot and sharp around.”

They both mumbled ‘sorry’ and went back to work.

Meanwhile, Gibbs was finding out that they were going to need a full cord of wood and Ma’mere wanted a 12-inch rick so it would fit into the stove. Gibbs blinked as he figured. “Well. Four high, eight wide and four deep. Eight feet is going to be eight twelve-inch ricks, so we better get started.”

Tony just sighed. “I don’t see a log splitter. I’ll go find a cross-cut saw.”

Gibbs nodded, “Okay, and gloves, wedges, and a good splittin’ maul.”

Tony just nodded and headed off to find the tools. He was offered a chainsaw, so he called Gibbs on the phone to ask if that would do.

Gibbs just asked, “Is the chain sharp?”

Tony eyed the saw then replied, “Looks like it is. I really don’t fancy bucking logs with a cross-cut.”

He brought all the tools to the pile of logs, with some help from a couple of high-school-aged boys; Albert and Laurent, pronounced Al-bear and Loo-rant. They helped carry the things to the pile of logs, then Albert offered, “Ma’mere want the wood at the pavilion.” He pointed to a metal shelter set on a slab. “We put the cook stove there; she do’an cook in the house for this ... too messy an’ hot. I bring the tractor an’ wagon ‘round, so we do’an handle wood a dozen times. Okay?”

Tony nodded. “Good. The splitting is gonna be a bitch.”

Laurent shook his head. “I call my Daddy; he was supposed to bring the splitter by, but it had a leak in the ‘drolics. He’s just over fixin’ it. We can buck until it gets here.”

It turned out that Gibbs was as much a machine when it came to bucking as he was at anything else. He had Tony set the logs on a bucking frame and move them up as needed; he cut by eye, but the rounds were nearly exactly 12 inches long. As he cut them, Albert used a pevy to just push them out of the way into a loose pile. 

They were about halfway done when Jean showed up with the splitter. It was gas, so they didn’t have to worry about getting a cord to it. Jean fired it up and said, “I got about two hours before the Missus wants me home. She do’an like it when I’m late ta supper. Do’an blame ‘er either. All that work an’ it goes cold?” he shook his head. “She’d have my stuff in a pan.”

Tony shrugged, “So would I. Seriously, man, you’re right. She works hard to make a nice meal and you just blow it off? Lucky you get out whole. I’ll let you know when to leave.”

“How you do dat? No watch.” Jean was grinning like he’d caught Tony out.

“Clock in my head. You tell me the time, I’ll let you know within ten minutes.” 

Gibbs barked, “AJ, move it up. We’re burnin’ daylight.”

Tony hurried to push the log into position. “Sorry. How we gonna handle the splittin’?”

Jean motioned to Albert. “Albert’ll put the sections in the splitter, I’ll run it. Laurent’ll stack on t’ wagon. I’ll round up some hommes to pitch it up. It’ll need splittin’ down more, but we can do that at need.”

He trotted off and came back in a few minutes with two older men, both near Gibbs’ age. “See who I found. Théophile an’ Narcisse.” the men waved when he said their names. “We just call ‘em Te an’ Ces. They’ll pitch.”

Gibbs and Tony kept sawing. Jean fired up the splitter and waited while Albert dropped the first round into it. He split it easily; all he had to do was pull the handle and wait for the hydraulic splitter to do its job. He had the four-cut head, so the section of log was split into four wedges, which would have to be split down more so they’d fit into the stove. 

Te and Ces pitched the quarters up to Laurent, who stacked them neatly in the wagon. They’d move them to the shelter and set up a splitting stump. Gibbs refused to split wood on the ground, claiming that it would ruin the maul, which it would; hitting a stone would nick the blade.

Tony finally said, “Time. Jean, head for home. We’ll clean up here and quit for the night. You leavin’ the splitter?”

Jean wiped his forehead on his sleeve before saying. “Oui. I’ll leave it. We still got some work to do, an’ there’s no reason for me to drag it back an’ forth.” Just then a boy of about ten came running up. He babbled at Jean in Cajun then ran off again. Jean nodded. “Ma’mere sent Cyr to tell me to go home for supper.” He just grinned at Tony and said, “You best watch, you’ll be called horloge.”

Gibbs started laughing while Tony just made a face. Being nicknamed “clock” was going to be interesting; he wondered vaguely what the diminutive would turn out to be. He was glad to find out that everyone would call him AJ. 

Another young boy ran up, panted for a second, then announced, “Ma’mere say come to supper. Wash-up this way.” He trotted off, expecting them to follow. 

Gibbs hollered after him. “Wait! We have to put up the tools first.”

Te and Ces just shooed them off. Ces said, “No, homme, you go. We clean up fo’ you ... dis time. No make Ma’mere wait; she spoon ya.” He turned to shut off the splitter and tuck the saw under it. 

Tony grinned at Gibbs. “We better hustle; I have no desire to be spooned.”

Gibbs just took off after the kid, he didn’t want to be spooned either.

They wound up in the summer kitchen at the back of the house. There was an old-fashioned washstand there with an enameled pan and pitcher sitting on it. Tony gathered up the soap, washcloth, and a hand towel. “You first.” He handed Gibbs the soap, then held the pitcher to pour water over his hands and the soap. Gibbs lathered his hands and rubbed the lather over his face and neck. A bit more water on the washrag took the soap off, and a dry with the hand towel, then they changed places so that Gibbs poured for Tony.

They finished washing quickly and trooped into the kitchen, only to be greeted with, “Boots at the door!” They quickly shed their sawdust-covered boots, leaving them by the door. 

Gibbs nodded to Ma’mere. “Sorry, ma’am. Smells good.”

“Gumbo n’ cornbread. Nothin’ special.” Ma’mere pointed to another smaller pot. “Dish that up. Be careful; greens is sloppy. Don’t slop the broth on your han’.”

Gibbs picked up the heavy ironstone bowl and poured the greens into it, careful not to slop the broth. “Ok. Take it to the table?”

“Oui. We eat in the kitchen mostly; dinin’ room’s for fancy. Just put it down some’ers.” Ma’mere started cutting cornbread into squares. “I’ll plate this in just a sec. Some’un set table.”

Tony had already gotten the dishes from the sideboard and set four places. “Four enough?”

“Non, me, Ami, you two, Remy ... three more. Eight.” She turned to call up the stairs. “Y’all come down. Food’s on the table.”

Gibbs wondered vaguely what Ma’mere was doing at the B&B, but wasn’t that interested. He figured it really wasn’t his business, as long as the residents were happy. He was more interested in gumbo, greens, and cornbread than he was in much else.

The whole group got seated, with Ma’mere at the head of the table; everyone else arranged themselves around the table as pleased them, and Ma’mere offered, “Que Dieu nous bénisse et cette nourriture. Eat!”

Everyone had their own bowl of gumbo and a plate for the cornbread and greens; butter went the rounds, along with chopped onion and malt vinegar for the greens. There was a huge pitcher of sweet tea and another of water. Gibbs wished for coffee, but kept his mouth shut, well aware that Southern Hospitality meant you took what was offered.

They talked about arrangements as they ate, and Ma’mere admitted that it was much nicer here in town than out at her old place, but she did miss her privacy. Tony poked at his gumbo as he thought, prompting Ma’mere to remark, “It’s dead, boy; stop pokin’ it.”

“Sorry. I was thinking ... what kind of house do you really want? Not what others think you should have, or what you think you ought to have. What do you really want?”

Ma’mere thought as she ate a few bites. “Well ... never actually thought about it. My place in the swamp was small ... bit too small. I’d like a really good closet with a iron board right in it. And a bathroom with a shower, sink and toilet. Big kitchen, real big. No dinin’ room. Don’t see the need. But a nice big porch with a swing; must have that. With rockin’ chairs. I’d like a three-way porch.” The pod all looked blank except for Remy. “A porch that goes around three sides of the house, and a stoop if there’s a door on the side with no porch.”

Tony offered, “If we arrange the rooms right, we’d leave the porch off the bedroom side.”

Remy interjected, “If we include the porches in the floor size, we can just plan on slant gable roofs from the start. I think there ought to be a good-size walk-in attic so there’s room for vane vents, help keep the house cool.”

They continued to put out ideas while they finished their food. 

Ma’mere looked around. “Everyone got room for pie?”

Dean opined, “There’s always room for pie.”

Ami smiled. “I thought that was Jell-o.”

Cosmo snorted. “Na. Jell-o? Blah. Pie.”

Ma’mere just got up and went to the counter. She fiddled a bit, producing whooshing noises, and then clattered around. She returned to the table with a tray topped with two pies and a pile of cups, plates and saucers. “Here. Ami, go bring the coffee an’ lait.”

Ami got up and brought a huge press-pot to the table, along with a pitcher of steamed milk, produced via the whooshing noise. Ma’mere cut pie and plated it while Ami poured coffee and handed it around. Gibbs refused sugar or milk; one sip had him grinning.

Ma’mere finally stood up. “Well, I’m cleanin’ the kitchen, then headed home. Ami, you tell you Mama that I’ll be here to start settin’ up the kitchen about 9am.”

Dean and Cosmo stood up too. Cosmo said, “You tell us what needs doin’ and we’ll take care of the KP. No arguments. You’ll wear yourself out before the party.”

Remy just got up and started taking plates off the table. “Ma’mere, do’an argue. Won’t do a mite a’ good. Save your breath to cool your soup.”

Ma’mere just smiled. “Well, then, I’ll just say, ‘thank you kindly’ and point.” She went into the kitchen too. She was heard to say, “Cosmo, you fix up a bowl of gumbo and another of greens, couple pieces of cornbread on a plate an’ put it in the warmer. Francine will be hungry when she gets in.”

Dean and Cosmo knew much better than to indulge in their usual horseplay in a strange kitchen so the job was soon done, dishes washed and put away, counters wiped, floor swept, and trash out. Cosmo made up the requested food and covered it with plastic wrap, then put it in the warming oven. 

Ma’mere smiled easily. “Ver’ good. I’m gone now. I’m old an’ want my easy chair.”

Gibbs offered her his arm. “Need someone to walk you home?”

Ma’mere slapped it gently. “I’m old, not decrepit. I’m gone draw up a floor plan tonight. Who do I give it to?”

Gibbs pointed to his chest. “That would be me. I’m going to do a blueprint, then we’ll talk about siding and whatnot. Good night.”

Ma’mere walked out the door, humming softly to herself. Cosmo went to the door to watch her until she disappeared into the trees. They were all well aware that she only had about 500 yards to walk, so they left her to it, especially since it was still light out.

Ami let out a little squeal, which brought everyone at a run. “Maman, I thought you had to work late.”

The woman who entered looked tired, but happy. “I did ... but Betty showed up after all so ... Je suis lá. What did I miss?”

Ami smiled. “Nothing. Ma’mere came and cooked gumbo. So good. And here’s our guests until after.” She introduced everyone to her mother, who smiled, nodded, and shook hands around. “Now, you sit. I’ll warm you up the gumbo and see if those bottomless pits have left any greens or cornbread.” She was pleased to see that there were two pieces of bread and a nice serving of greens left. 

Cosmo announced, “I made it up for you. Ma’mere said. And there’s more, only it’s in the fridge.”

Francine looked blank for a moment then snickered, “You mean the icebox?” She settled to eat, nodding her thanks when Tony brought her a glass of tea and a piece of pie. “Thank you.” She settled back in her chair to enjoy her pie while she questioned everyone about how things had gone. “I hope you like the room. I could only put the one aside for you; I was actually booked up, but had a last-minute cancellation.”

Remy shook his head at his cousin. “Cousin Fran, we’re fine. It’s nice. We got two blow-up mattresses and the beds. It’s great. A lot better than hot rackin’. Now. You take that pie and tea an’ go on the porch an’ relax.” He shooed her out; she protested a bit, but not much.

They all settled on the porch to visit, mostly Francine, Remy, and Ami; the rest just listened or asked questions. After a while they fell silent and just listened to frogs, crickets, and cicadas while the sky drifted into darkness.

Gibbs finally said, “We all better get to bed. Sun comes up early.”

Tony agreed, “It does. And there’s a lot of work to do.”

Jimmy stood up, stretched, then said, “If anyone has a problem with the rack assignments ... tough.” He then made a run for the room laughing like a loon. 

There was a general scramble to make it to their room, while Ami and Francine just goggled. Gibbs, last to go, announced, “Like herding cats, I swear.”

It didn’t take long for everyone to get ready for bed, as most of them just stripped off their outer garments and fell into bed. Tonight was no different, except that Gibbs hung a bathrobe on the back of the door and said, “No one leaves this room without that on. We don’t want to scare the other guests.”

Tony wondered, “Are there any others? Or are they all coming in the next couple of days?”

Jimmy pointed to the wall. “There’s a couple in that room. They went into New Orleans and won’t be back until after 2400. The room across the hall is Ami. And Miss Francine is in the attic. The room on the other side of us won’t be occupied until tomorrow. The room next to Ami is also empty until tomorrow.”

No one questioned the reason they were still in one room. It was what they were paying for, instead of sleeping in the barn at the old place. This was much better by far.

They settled in to sleep, only to be awakened by someone stumbling on the stairs, hissing whispers, and some giggling.

Gibbs got up, opened the door and snarled, “Be quiet! People are trying to sleep. If you want to get drunk and stumble around like a herd of buffalo, do it at home.” 

The young couple both flushed. They scurried into their room, shutting the door quickly. 

Gibbs eyed it for a moment, but there was no further noise, so he went back to bed, telling Tony, “Sleep, AJ. Drunks coming home.”

“Okay, Jet. You okay?”

“Fine. Sleep.”

There was no further noise, and everyone slept the rest of the night through.

.

They were awakened again at 0530 by Francine calling, “Breakfast; get it hot, or not at all.”

They scrambled into clothing, not worrying about showers or shaving. Breakfast was ready and so where they.

It didn’t take long for them all to be seated in the dining room; Miss Francine called them to order easily. “Okay, y’all be seated where you like. I’ll bring out as soon as you’re all parked.”

Gibbs glanced at Tony, who was eyeing the new arrivals with a bit of a jaundiced eye. They were obviously hung over and miserable.

Ami came in just then with a huge platter of fried ham, which she put in front of Gibbs at the head of the table. “I hear you get served first.”

Gibbs nodded. “I do. Keeps the animals in line. Thank you.”

Ami nodded and replied, “Rest will be out as done,” and went back into the kitchen.

Francine came out with a huge bowl of cheese grits and another of scrambled eggs. “Eggs is scrambled, soft.” 

Gibbs took helpings and passed things on.

There was no further conversation as Ami and Francine took turns bringing out platters and bowls; grits were followed by greens, bacon, biscuits, toast, sausage, gravy and a huge pot of hot coffee. The cream, sugar, and sweetener were already on the table.

Gibbs accepted each platter or bowl, helped himself to what he wanted, then passed it on.

The young man grumbled, “Why does he get first serve?”

Remy just eyed his cousin and snarked, “Because he’s at the head of the table? You come stumbling in at oh-dark-fuck in the night and bitch? Shut it, you.”

The girl eyed her boyfriend. “You gonna let him talk to you like that, Gerard?”

Gerard sighed, “I’m too hung over to argue, May. I want my coffee. An’ I’m not sure who he is exactly.”

“Master Chief Petty Officer Remiel Andre Devereaux. One of Ma’mere’s grandsons. Who you?” Remy eyed them sourly. Everyone knew he was getting pissed, as he never used his full rank and name unless he was.

Gerard groaned. “Shit!”

Gibbs barked, “Language!” 

May moaned softly. “Oh, my head. Ow!”

Cosmo, seated on her right, cheerfully offered her the now-combined meat platter, asking, “Ham? Sausage? Bacon? It’s really good.” May just turned an interesting shade of green and shook her head. “No? Okay. Coffee?” This she accepted with a jerky nod.

Meanwhile, Gerard was experiencing much the same from Dean. “Cheesy grits? Eggs? Toast?” Gerard smelled the grits and bolted. “Well. Okay, then.” Dean caught Gibbs’ eye and just grinned.

Gibbs decided to leave well enough alone and went back to his food. The ham was really good, sweet-salty with a smoky undertone. The bacon was crisp and the sausage redolent of sage and red pepper. The grits had been made the old-fashioned way, with chunks of cheddar instead of Velveeta. He split a biscuit and tucked a piece of ham into it; he topped that with a spoon of eggs and closed it. The first bite made him sigh with pleasure. “So good. More coffee, please.” He looked around for the pot.

Ami came in just then with the heavy steel coffee pot, one of those French restaurant-style ones with a gooseneck spout and helper handle. “Coffee.” She started to pour some, but it was obvious that she was struggling with the heavy pot. Gibbs got up and took it from her.

“One smart-ass crack and you’ll find out why it’s not wise to piss off the staff.” He patted Ami on the shoulder and said, “If you’d get some creamer for AJ?” She nodded and went to get it. “Now. Who wants more?” Gibbs made the rounds of the table with the hot pot, pouring coffee for those who wanted it. All the pod did, as did May. Gerard returned just in time to beg for ‘coffee, black,’ and a piece of dry toast.

Jimmy offered, “You ought to drink more water. One of the reasons you feel sick is you’re dehydrated.”

Gerard nodded. “I know. I ... know better too. But Hurricanes are so good. An’ I figured I’d dance it off.”

May grumbled. “That’s what that random flailing was?”

“Hush, you.” Gerard finished his coffee and nibbled on the toast. 

Francine came in with a glass of water in each hand. She put one by Gerard’s elbow and the other in front of May. She took two packets of Tylenol out of her apron pocket and put them down too. “Here. Drink the water. Take the pills. There’s work to do.”

This led to a general racket as the whole pod got up. AJ offered, “Need KP?”

“No. I got it. Ami ...” she nodded her head, “An’ those two will help me. I’m no good at most of the stuff Ma’mere needs done. So I’ll just make sure that the workers have food.” She smiled. “Ma’mere is gonna be up to the shelter. That cook stove won’t light itself.”

Gibbs nodded. “We’ll head that way then.” He gave Gerard and May a look. “If you have any trouble, with anyone, let one of us know.”

“Merci, I will. Don’t expect there’ll be any, but better to plan than mourn.” She made shooing motions. “You better get.”

So they got, heading to the pavilion to see what needed doing.

Ma’mere was dressed much differently today, in overalls and a short-sleeved t-shirt, with gum boots to round it out. “Well, hello. You up for a bit of work?”

Gibbs motioned with his cup. “We are. What needs doin’?”

“Wood needs split down. I’d like a rick done up, at least. An’ I need a ‘gator. And frogs.”

Dean and Cosmo denied any desire to gig frogs or hunt alligators, so they set to splitting the wood. Jimmy was set to peeling apples, as he offered to stay and man the first-aid station, just in case. This left Remy, Tony, and Gibbs to deal with frogs and gators. Ma’mere introduced them to Orly, who had a boat and offered to guide them into the swamps.

Gibbs drew Remy aside and asked, “Why doesn’t she have more help?”

“Most people who would, have to work. Those that don’t work, are either incapable due to age, infirmity, or ignorance, or just lazy. The lazy ones will find their welcome very ... cold. Most of the people who can’t help are donating what money they can,” he shrugged in the Cajun way. “Come time, she’ll have more help than you can shake a stick at.”

Gibbs nodded. “Okay. Who’s gonna stay behind tomorrow to start organizing this mess?”

“Me, I guess.” 

Gibbs wondered if he’d lost a day. They’d left on Wednesday morning, riding most of Thursday, and it was now Monday. “Ok. When is this shindig set to start?” 

“Well ... officially, Friday. But people will start comin’ in an’ settin’ up tomorrow. They’ll help ... but my plan is to get Ma’mere’s house up now, rather than wait until after the reunion. People’ll be wantin’ to get home by then.”

Gibbs nodded his understanding. “Okay, I see. I’ll have some plans by tomorrow morning then.”

“Ok. Best would be to sit down with Ma’mere tonight and get the prints done. Now ... giggin’.” Remy ambled away, secure in the knowledge that Gibbs and Tony would follow him.

They ran the half-mile or so down to the pier, where Orly was waiting for them. Tony announced, “Tomorrow we run. Wonder if we can swim in the river?”

Orly overheard that and said, “Can. No gators there. Too many boats up an’ down. No prey, no gator. We gon’ giggin’ for frogs now.” He waited until everyone was in the boat and seated properly. “Vests under the seats; put ‘em on.” He waited until they all had life vests on, then said, “Check the gigs are there, will ya?”

Tony looked under the seat again and saw the “gigs,” small tridents, tucked under the seats along the side of the boat. “They’re there. Four of them.”

“Good. We go now. Sit.” Orly nodded once, then fired up the outboard, and the twelve-foot john boat shot out of its bay and into the river. Gibbs expected them to go downriver, but they went across. Orly explained. “Frogs ina’ swamp, not on de banks. We gig in Poudre’s Pond. Lots a’ big ‘un there.”

Tony nodded. “Okay, how far?”

“Oh, round about ten minutes.” Since it was a swamp and they were going by boat, no one expected a distance; everything was figured in how long it would take.

They settled in to enjoy the peace and quiet of the ride, the only sound the muted roar of the outboard motor. 

Ten minutes later Orly announced, “We here. Get out the gigs.”

Gibbs pulled the spears out from under the seats and handed one each to Orly, Tony, and Remy, keeping the last one for himself. Orly pulled the outboard out of the water, tilting it, then strapping it into place with a bungee cord. “There. Han’ me that paddle.” He took the paddle and began to paddle the boat toward the shore; once he had the boat moving, he put the paddle down and picked up his gig. “Quiet now.” 

As the boat drifted with the slow current, it was obvious that they were going to drift down the bank. Everyone kept an eye out for frogs. Gibbs patted Tony, then pointed; he’d seen several good size frogs on one log. Orly watched with amazement as Remy silently moved to balance the boat, while Gibbs and Tony both quickly speared a frog; Tony then stepped back, and Remy took his place, also spearing a frog. While they were doing that, Gibbs had pulled the frog off his spear and gotten a fourth frog as it jumped to get away. He whispered, “Four. We do this the rest of the day, and we gonna be good to go.”

They continued down the bank looking for more frogs.

.

Jimmy eyed the pile of apples with a weary air. “I’m gonna be peeling forever.”

Ma’mere shook her head. “No, homme, I wouldn’t do that to you. Here, let me show you.”

Jimmy followed her to the side table. “We really going to need all those apples?”

“Sho’ will. Apple pie, fried hand pies, pan dowdy. And peach, but I set Gerard and May to deal with those.” She showed Jimmy how to work the peeler. 

This was a really interesting device. Ma’mere put an apple onto a spike then pushed it into the body of the machine, much like a lathe. “Now you just turn the crank and it peels an’ cores the apple. Take it out and one slice of a knife and it’s done.” She took the apple, which was now peeled and cut into a spiral, and cut it across with an 8” paring knife. “Put the slices into this five-gallon bucket. That’s sugar water with lemon in it ... keeps the apples from browning. Just ask for another when this one is full.” And with that she walked off, calling over her shoulder. “If you have a problem, give me a yell.”

The rest of the day went much as expected. Jimmy peeled, cored, and sliced apples until he swore he’d dream of them for a month. Remy, Gibbs, Orly, and Tony returned with their limit of frogs, which Orly declared a ‘damn good day’ and enough to make a good mess.

It was nearly five when the last of the day’s chores were done. Ma’mere announced that tomorrow she needed her ‘gator, so she could fillet it next day. Remy agreed that they’d have one by time. 

Francine called supper, and everyone went to clean up and change clothes. 

The pod was just about done when Gerard wandered in. He smiled a bit hesitantly then cleared his throat. “Wanted to say sorry for wakin’ everyone up at some ungodly hour. So ... sorry. May said sorry too.”

Remy just shrugged. “We all young once. See you stay quiet tonight.” He slapped Gerard on the shoulder and went to put on clean clothing. You just did not come to table in a muck for supper. As he said, “Jes’ ain’ done.” Everyone agreed that it was nasty to show up to a meal filthy. Lunch, eaten at work, was something different.

The food was just as good as ever, and everyone had their fill of fried catfish, hush puppies, french fries, coleslaw, and strawberry fool. Tony jerked his head, and Dean and Cosmo got up to help May take the dishes in. Gerard followed to begin washing while Miss Francine put left-overs away and started breakfast prep. Remy said, “Gon’ see Orly about tomorrow,” and disappeared into the trees at the back of the house. It seemed that Orly lived on the other side of the trees down by the swamp. Jimmy made himself scarce on some errand of his own.

Tony settled down at the dining room table with a yellow legal tablet and pencil. He also produced a set of draftsmen's tools. Gibbs and Ma’mere joined him. 

Gibbs rubbed his face, then asked, “You have any idea how big you want?”

Ma’mere nodded. “I drew up this.” she produced a scrap of notebook paper with a very rough sketch on it. “I don’t think I need a really big house. Never had one, don’t need one. But I do like me a big porch. On at least two sides to catch the breeze. See?” 

Gibbs eyed the paper then nodded. “So you’re lookin at about ... you want it square?” Ma’mere shrugged. “Okay, doesn’t make much difference then. Few walls as possible, so as not to block the breeze. Big windows, double hung. HVAC system. I’d like to put the house up high enough that that’s all underneath it.”

Ma’mere looked blank for a second then said, “Hold up there. What’s HVAC when it’s at home?”

Tony answered absently, “Heating, ventilation, and air conditioning. You’ll really want a good system. And a Manabloc water system. On-demand hot water heater. And I think you ought to have a full attic so we can install turbine vents on the roof. That’ll help keep the house cooler by pulling the rising hot air out.” He went back to making notes.

Gibbs nodded. “What he said.” He started by drawing a fat rectangle on his sheet of paper. “Deep porches. So ten feet?”

“Yes. And part screened in. If you put it on three sides, I can have my summer kitchen again.” Ma’mere looked wistful for a moment. “I’d really love one of those old-fashioned detached summer kitchens. Just a roof, you know? With screens all around.”

Gibbs drew what looked a bit like a detached garage. “Like that? Not really a problem. Running water but no hot? Your stove have a tank?”

“It does, so I don’t need hot put in. But a faucet that will reach the tank would be nice. Wouldn’t have to lift buckets.”

Tony made a note. “Got it. And a brick sidewalk to keep you out of mud.”

Ma’mere nodded. “Good idea.”

After three hours of work, they had the plans done. The house was small, but comfortable, with an interior dimension of twenty-five by thirty-five, with ten-foot-deep porches on three sides; front, living-room side, and back. The back would be screened in. The walk to the summer kitchen came off the living-room side, and the front had wide shallow stairs and two porch swings, one on either side of the fancy front door. The side doors would be sliding glass, while the back door would be simple wood exterior doors with a screen door. There would be an old-fashioned screen door between the back and side doors, so people wouldn’t have to go inside to get from the back to the side. Ma’mere said, “Make sure the spring is heavy duty. I don’t mind a slam or two, but I really hate a door hangin’ open.”

Gibbs eyed the blueprint. “Ok. Bedroom here, bathroom, kitchen. I didn’t plan on walls between the living area, dining area, and kitchen, just a counter to divide it up. You want the kitchen area to be about ten by twelve. That gives you lots of counter space. Range, or stove-top and oven?”

Ma’mere shook her head, “Don’t hold with that fancy stove-top stuff. Ol’ fashioned range for me. I’d love a double oven.”

“Can do. Bathroom is gonna be good-size, with a shower/tub combo and no arguments. The master bedroom will take up most of the rest of that side so it’ll be right at...” he fiddled a bit, “ten by fifteen. And a walk-in closet that’s fifteen by eight. The rest of the house is living room and guest bed.”

Ma’mere did a bit of mental math and announced. “We can have the laundry room/pantry on that side of the house too. We’ve got fifteen feet for the master bedroom, eight for the closet and that leaves ...” she shook her head. “Way lots of room.”

Gibbs nodded. “I was planning on a vestibule ... mud room between the back porch and kitchen ... with a sink to wash vegetables, boots ... that sort of thing.”

They fiddled and moved until everything suited Ma’mere; she decided to put the laundry behind the shower/tub combo in the bathroom, adding some shelving for towels and such. 

Tony finished his computations while Gibbs and Ma’mere drank coffee. “Ok. Since I can get a deal from the company, unless there’s some reason you don’t like it, we’ll be using a steel shell. The kit comes with poles, siding, insulation, and two doors. The porches will be decking from another source. With wiring, more windows, doors, interior finish, and appliances and so on ... we’re looking at about $60k.”

Ma’mere looked a bit shocked. “Really? My goodness. I was thinking much more than that. That’s wonderful.”

Gibbs nodded. “And ... since you’re going to have a barn-raising to put it up, you’re gonna be good to go in about two weeks.” He finished the last of his plans. “There. How soon can you have the ground prepped for the pilings? I’ve planned on four-foot pilings.”

Ma’mere nodded back. “Good. I hate a house flat on the ground. Flat-landers’ll never understand until their floors rot right out from under them.”

Tony looked up from his notes. “I’d planned on poured concrete anchored with rebar driven into the ground. The whole plot under the house sand, then gravel. Pour the pilings first?”

Ma’mere yawned. “Hommes, I’m done. Y’all do what you do. I’m goin’ to bed. I’m here tonight, so no one has to walk me.” 

They realized that they’d missed the arrival of all the other guests, the sounds of their arrival noticed and dismissed while they worked.

Gibbs glanced at his watch. “No wonder you’re tired. It’s nearly midnight.”

Tony sighed. “I’m headed up. Early days tomorrow.”

They all slipped up the stairs quietly. Ma’mere took her shoes off so she wouldn’t click.

Gibbs and Tony were happy to see that they had beds tonight. They fell into bed in their underwear and were asleep in seconds.

.

Chapter 5

 

Tony woke to a hissing whisper. “I’m not gonna do it. You do it.” He wasn’t sure what ‘it’ was and didn’t really care. He grumbled, looked at his watch and sighed, “Fuck.” It was time to get up already. He realized that the whisper was Dean. “Dean, your whisper is louder than ... something really loud. I’m up.” He scrambled out of bed, made it, then headed for the bathroom. 

He was soon done and got the call to breakfast. He was a bit disappointed to find that breakfast today was biscuit sandwiches. They were good, heavy, thick slabs of ham or thick patties of spicy sausage between halves of buttery, flaky biscuit with a fried egg. It wasn’t what they usually got, but it was delicious. 

Tony found that he and Gibbs were to be left behind on the gator hunt, as they were set to supervise the construction crew that was going to break ground for Ma’mere’s new house, while Jimmy, Dean, and Cosmo were set to help Ma’mere however they were needed. Neither he nor Gibbs was that upset about missing a gator hunt. And, as Tony remarked, “We don’t have a license or a permit. And ... how the hell do you hunt a thing with that many teeth, in a swamp? Um ... I’d give it the ol’ college try, but ... not my idea of fun.”

Remy appeared from somewhere outside, grabbed a couple of sandwiches, and trotted out again, calling, “Bye. Gotta meet Orly. He say big gator seen down south a ways.”

Gibbs watched him trot off, then turned to Tony. “AJ, we’ve got a bunch of stuff to get done today. First, we have to peg out the ground for the foundations and pilings. Then we have to make sure that the Port-a-potties are delivered, set up, and clean. I swear, if they deliver them full, I’m gonna stuff some suit into one.” 

Tony sighed, remembering the case where someone had delivered a bunch of portable toilets that hadn’t been pumped out. The Chief Petty Officer in charge of the premises had flipped his cookies and stuffed the driver into one. The man had drowned. “Jet ... not a good idea.”

“Feet first.” Gibbs grimaced as he remembered the same case. “Well, maybe I’ll just yell at someone. Come on. After the johns are delivered, we need to make sure the sand and gravel are delivered to the right place.”

Tony nodded. “And we need to figure out how many piers we need and how big to make ‘em. That way I know how much concrete to order.”

A man came over just then, “Cee-cee Ryder, an’ I done heard all the jokes. You really think poured concrete will be stable enough?”

Tony thought. “Probably. What’s your suggestion?”

“Driven pilings. I’d think at least nine feet up and ten down. Get twenty-foot poles, and saw them even after.” He looked into the distance. “I can get you enough for fifty dollar each.”

Gibbs frowned. “How are we gonna drive ‘em?”

“I got a driver. I can start as soon as I get the materials. If you wanna do piers, still could use the lumber, instead of concrete. Pour the pads individually instead of a full slab. Make it float instead a’ tryin’ to reach bedrock.” Cee-cee thought for a second. “Let me go to my truck. Meet you at the shelter. Got a map we can look at.”

He returned quickly with a rolled up topographical map. They spread it out over the big table under the shelter, much to Ma’mere’s disgust. She needed the table for cooling pies, but was content to wait until they were done.

A quick look told them that the bedrock was at least twenty feet down, so they were going to have to float the house. This wasn’t as bad as you might think; there were several very large houses that were 200 years old or older that were floating. As long as the piers and foundations were properly maintained, the house should last.

Tony consulted his papers, then asked, “Cee-cee, you know where we can get the sand and base rock?” He passed over a quarter sheet of yellow paper that he’d written the quantities on.

Cee-cee took it, read quickly, and nodded. “I do. I know un homme who runs a dredge. He stockpiles the sand and gravel. I’ll give him a call. Pretty sure he can deliver by ... noon.”

Tony sighed. “That’d be great. We’re dealing with marking out parking and puttin’ up johns.”

“Ah! Johns ver’ important.” Cee-cee’s solemn tone made them all laugh. “I made a call.”

Gibbs nodded. “Thank you. Now ... I need to find string and stakes. I can make the stakes from some cord wood. But I need string to mark out the foundation so we can figure out where to put the piers.”

Cee-cee pointed to a pickup. “Go ask Dan. I bet he got some.”

Tony trotted over to the truck, offered his hand to the wizened man standing beside the bed and said, “AJ DiNozzo. Friend of the family. We need some string to mark out a foundation for Ma’mere. You got some?”

Dan nodded. “I come early to hep’ out. Got string, pegs, markin’ paint ... what we do?”

Tony pointed to Gibbs. “He’s in charge of the house. I’m dealing with parking and johns.”

Dan handed Tony a bag with several cans of spray paint in it. “Here. I take one, you’ll need the rest. Best you mark out parking spots or they’ll be parked higgledy-piggledy and we’ll be forever askin’ people to move.”

Tony nodded. “I’ll need some temporary marks then. You got enough string that I can have some?”

Dan pointed to a reel. “There’s for you. I got another deal for the foundation. Just reel it back up when you’re done and put it back in the bed.”

Tony took the reel. “Thanks.”

Tony realized that he was going to need help to measure out the spaces, make sure that there was a proper drive aisle and walkways. It wouldn’t do to finish marking and find that there was no way to get to the back of the lot or safe places to walk. He wondered how many spaces they would need.

He was just getting ready to go look for Ma’mere to ask when a man of about 20 trotted up. “Jean Babin. Ma’mere sent me to hep’ you. We need ‘nother couple men, oui?”

Tony introduced himself then agreed, “Yeah. It would be great if we had one on each end of the line, one in the middle and me to mark. What do you think?” Tony was used to taking charge, so he did.

“Oui. I got it. I’ll call my brothers to meet us down the lot. It’s this way.” He trotted off with Tony at his heels. “I wish I had a bit more time today. Coach is all over us, says the team is a bunch of girls. We’re all out of shape. I’m not, but I do like my run. It’s just over a mile down to the lot. You gonna make it?”

Tony snorted. “A mile? Easy-peasy. But how are all the other people gonna make it? A mile is a long way for civilians to hoof.”

Jean pointed to a tractor. “Wagon with benches on it, all made up. Da bolted ‘em down to make ‘em safer. Take twenty at a time, an’ we got three.”

Tony nodded. “That’s great. I wasn’t looking forward to trying to find a bus.”

Jean looked horrified. “Bus? Mon Dieu, too hot. No AC in anything we could use.”

They were at the lot by now and found three more young men, obviously related, waiting.

Jean introduced them as Lon, Mark, and Guillaume: his brothers, both older and younger. “We go now.” Jean frowned as he realized that Tony had carried all the tools. “Homme, you shoulda shoved some a’ dat off on me. But ... ne’me’min’ Allons-y.”

Tony nodded. “Ok. And don’t worry about me carrying shit. This is nothing,” he laughed. “Try running ten Klicks with an eighty-pound pack ... in hundred-plus-degree heat, deep sand, and dodgin’ bullets.”

The four brothers eyed him for a moment; then Mark, as the oldest, said, “Oh! Homme, merci pour vos service.”

Tony shrugged. “Welcome. Now ... we best get to gettin’. I need to be back to deal with the Port-a-potty guy by noon.”

They eyeballed the lot, trying to figure out where to put things. Guillaume offered, “If we just make the drives good an’ wide, people can walk at the edges of them. We’ll set up a shelter so there’s shade for people waitin’ for a ride. Bet if we do it right, we can make parkin’ for at least a hundred cars.”

Tony nodded absently. “Better make sure they’re big enough for a full-size pickup or van. With door room. I hate when I have to fiddle so I don’t take a chunk out of someone’s door.”

“Right. So...” Mark paced off an area in the middle of the road, then used a stick to mark it out. “About this big ...”

Tony nodded. “And that’s about half the width we need for drives. So ... measure it off in even strips, then take down the strings we don’t need ... spray the lines, then each one of us take a strip and paint out the spaces. Better get goin’.”

They worked quickly, telling jokes, laughing, and horsing around a bit. It didn’t take very long to stretch the strings on pegs that Tony made from sticks gathered from the tree line. They made sure that the lines were straight and square; the lot was a bit odd-shaped, but they decided to ‘waste’ room, leaving the parking lot a rectangle, rather than try to use all the space. This left odd-shaped areas here and there, good for gathering places and conversation and driving around the ends of the parking lanes. 

“Okay, good. Now we take down every third one and start painting.” Tony wiped sweat off his face and neck with his shirt tail. 

They all looked up at a call from the road. “Hommes, come.” They hurried over to see what the girl on the ATV wanted. “Ma’mere is fussed. You didn’t bring water. Here.” She produced old-fashioned milk bottles of home-brewed sweet tea from the trunk on the back rack. “Don’t drink too fast.”

They passed the first bottle around and emptied it in short order. The second and third were passed while the first was being emptied. 

Mark nodded. “Merci, Annamarie. Goes down good.”

Annamarie jumped as her phone rang. “Damn, now what?” She answered, listened, then announced. “Who AJ, you?”

Tony nodded. “What’s up?”

“Ma’mere say, give her your damn phone number an’ come to do with the johns.”

Tony grimaced; that was what had been bothering him. He’d completely forgotten to share his phone number. “Sorry. Can I give it to you and have you send it to whoever needs it?”

“Fair ‘nough. Come ... get on. I’ll run you back.” 

Tony bit his lip. “I’m not done here yet.”

Jean made shooing motions with both hands. “Allez, Allez. Go. We got this. All set out. All we got do is paint.”

“Ok. But you need to reel the line back up and put it in Dan’s truck bed. Old guy, looks like an apple doll?”

Everyone snickered at that description. Lon nodded. “Know him an’ his truck. You don’t fuss, we’ll deal. Best not keep Ma’mere waitin’; she’ll spoon you sure.”

So Tony got on behind Annamarie, and she took him back to the park just in time to greet the driver. Tony shook his hand, introduced himself, then blatantly checked to make sure they were pumped out.

The driver just chuckled, instead of getting mad. “Done pumped ‘em.”

Tony grimaced, “Sorry but ... you really don’t want to hear the story about the time someone didn’t and a guy flipped out.”

“I did hear. Up DC way, some ‘un stuffed some ‘un else into one, head first, cause they delivered ‘em full.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue. “Not good. Drowned ‘im, I heard.”

Tony nodded. “I had to work it, because the guy who did the stuffing was Navy. It was so nasty.” He glanced around. “Where do you think we should set these up?”

The driver looked around. “I got twelve. I think ... four by the shelter, back a ways. Then put another four over behind the spit a’ trees there. Ladies don’t like people to see ‘em. Not like we don’t know what they’re doin’ but ... ladies is particular like dat. So ... and we still got four.”

Tony pointed to where they were putting in the foundation for the house. “I think we ought to put two there. And that leaves us with two still on the truck. Are you leaving the truck or taking it back?”

Theo shrugged. “Got to take it. I got three places to pump out this afternoon. What you got in your head?”

“Spares. Something happens to one, we’ve got one on site to replace it with.” Tony eyed the small cubicles, wondering how hard they were to move.

“Good idea. Just got to keep ‘em upright or the blue will be all over.” 

Tony grimaced. “And just exactly what is that stuff anyway?”

“Disinfectant, deodorizer, and perfume. We get it in jugs and dilute it. We use five ounces per gallon and just tap water. I can leave you a jug and keep two units empty.”

“That’d be great. How do you want to do this?”

They settled on backing the truck into position, which would allow Theo to use the hoist to put the units into place. Then he, Theo, would pour the concentrate into the tank, and Tony would follow up with the garden hose and fill them. Theo admitted that he was supposed to have water in his tank, but it was emptied for cleaning last night and he hadn’t noticed until it was too late. He apologized profusely, but Tony just shrugged it off.

“Man, don’t sweat it. You can fill your tank for when you pump out.” He went off to get a hose. It took the two men the rest of the afternoon to set the units. 

.

Gibbs was also busy. He took a few minutes to split some of the cord wood down into stakes, sharpening them with quick strokes of the axe. He gathered up the stakes and string, dumping them all into a cardboard box that someone had tossed in his general direction. “Ok. now ... where does this bitch go?”

Dan, who’d been squatting a short distance away, watching with approval, said, “Over there. Come.” He stood up and ambled away. 

Gibbs shouldered the box and followed. 

Dan pointed. “Be makin’ house here.” He pointed again, “View.” 

Gibbs stood beside Dan and looked where he pointed. “Nice.” The view was very pretty, taking in swamp, highway, and river in one expanse. He knew which way to point the house. “She sit on the front porch or side?”

Dan swept one hand to encompass the road. “Front go dat way. Side with de porch, dat.”

Gibbs realized that the side was the one with the view. He’d have to adjust the position of the summer kitchen so as not to block it. “Guess the kitchen is going out the back.”

“Usual place,” Dan agreed. “We best get ta work.”

“Right. Think we ought to find the back of the house first ... or the front?” He waited while Dan thought.

He finally allowed, “Back, I tink. Make sure we got enough clearance from de trees.”

So they figured out where they wanted the back corners and pegged it out, stretching string as they went. It didn’t take them long to have the house outlined. 

Then Gibbs started figuring out where to put the pads for the piers. He grumbled. “I need to make room for the HVAC and Manabloc ... the water heater isn’t that big.”

Dan offered. “How high you puttin’ de house?”

“Figured I’d ask someone, likely you, what the floods are like before I decided.”

Dan chuckled. “Well, I’m two days older ’n dirt. Seen plenty a’ floods. Need to put the house up at least six feet, eight bedda.”

Gibbs nodded. “I checked most of the older houses as we rode by. They’re all at least six feet up. Some of the new houses ...” he nodded at one nearby. “I’m not sure.”

Dan shook his head. “We warn ‘em an’ warn ‘em an’ dey don’ listen. They be flooded nex’ time we get a big blow. Too bad.”

Gibbs shook his head. “My Dad always said, ‘Anyone who builds a house on a flood plain gets what they deserve.’”

Dan shrugged, “Only problem, dis whole area a flood plain.”

They laughed together, then finished pegging out the foundations. Dan was pleased to see that Gibbs was generous with the piers. Inadequate piers led to sagging floors, but trying to convince some penny-pinchers of that was impossible.

It wasn’t long before they had the whole thing marked with spray paint and string-and-peg lines. 

“Ok, that’s that.” Gibbs looked at his watch then the sun. “Lunch? I’m starved and thirsty.”

Dan nodded. “Could do. Angelique will have food soon. We go, oui?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

The food was again, sandwiches, this time mufaletta, accompanied by slaw, baked beans, and some sort of seafood pasta thing. It was all good. There was also an assortment of sodas, tea, coffee, and some sort of fruit punch. Gibbs gave that a doubtful look before Dan hissed, “Non, homme, il est affreux.” He took a cup of coffee instead; although he really hadn’t had any intention of drinking the dark purple stuff. 

They took their food to the table and settled in to eat. Dan didn’t seem inclined to idle chatter, for which Gibbs was grateful. His limited congeniality was already stressed as it was.

When they were finished, they went back to the site to wait for the sand, gravel, and lumber to arrive. 

It wasn’t long before a lumber yard truck pulled up and a man hopped down. “Lumber, for Miz DuBois. Some ‘un sign.” He handed Dan his clipboard, Dan signed, and suddenly they had seven or eight people on hand to unload. Someone jumped into the truck and began handing lengths of wood down to someone else, who handed it on to someone who put it in a pile. It took five minutes to get it out. 

Gibbs eyed the lumber then said, “Glad it’s in short sections. Thanks.” 

The driver just shrugged and said, “Well, the man who called said you were making pads for underlayment. Just seemed easier all around. Thanks.” He took the twenty Gibbs handed him and got back in his truck. He took a moment to call back, “An’ your steel building package will be here tomorrow. ‘Voir.” With that, he drove away.

Gibbs sighed. “We need to get the ground cleared, sand and gravel in, and the pads poured. Better get started.”

Dan nodded. “Don’ need t’ clear the ground; just get the sand and gravel down and forms built. The grass’ll die out soon enough.”

Gibbs looked doubtful, but then Dan said, “Been done that way hunderd years or more. Best get the forms started.”

So Gibbs started cutting the rough lumber into lengths for the forms, while Dan and Cee-cee nailed them up. It only took about an hour.

“Now we jes’ wait for the sand.” Dan squatted down to drink water and wait.

Gibbs joined him, squatting too. “You serve?”

“Did do.”

“Nam?”

“Oui.”

“Branch?”

Dan grinned at him. “Snake eater.”

“Oh, hell.” Gibbs grinned back. “Leatherneck.”

“Bit young.”

“Desert Storm, Columbia thing, and a bit here and there. NCIS now.”

“Ah.” Dan finished his water. “Sand’s here.”

And the sand was there, in a dump truck. Gibbs walked over to it and said, “Need the sand in the middle of that layout.” he pointed to the stake and string layout.

The driver parked, set the brakes and got out. “Ok. I’ll just check that I’m not drivin’ into something. You take down that end a’ strings. Don’ need to drive over ‘em and mess it all up.” He walked the route from the blacktop to the foundation, didn’t find anything he didn’t like, and returned to his truck. He backed up and dumped the sand right in the middle of the foundation, doing his best to spread it by driving as far back as he could then slowly raising the bed as he drove forward again. He managed a thick, even spread of sand, right down the middle of the long way of the foundation. As the bed was eighteen feet wide, he managed a fairly nice, wide strip. They would still have to rake, but spreading it across twenty-five feet was better than having to move it with wheelbarrows. 

Gibbs thanked the driver and asked, “When can we expect the gravel?”

“Bout seven or so. If you ain’t done wit’ de spread, call and put a hold on it. I’ll pick it up now and keep it. I’m goin’ to late lunch an’ then back to pick it up.”

Gibbs smiled. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

Again, Ma’mere worked magic, and half a dozen men showed up to help rake the sand around. A couple of women showed up too. It took almost three hours to rake the sand out and make sure it was level. They took a break for supper, then back to work as the truck arrived with the gravel. 

The driver was kind enough to ask if they wanted it spread, but since they wanted to lay the forms for the pier pads, they had him dump it all to one side. 

As it was nearly dark, they decided to do the gravel tomorrow. Gibbs employed his Marine DI voice to announce, “Okay! Attention, everyone. We’ll wrap it up for today. Everyone have a nice evening.” He didn’t really understand why Tony had practically ordered him to say that, but it couldn’t hurt. He watched as most of the helpers took off for home and supper; a few stayed to clean up the tools, then they left too. He made his way back to the B&B to clean up and see if there was anything left to eat.

He was pleasantly surprised to find that Francine had held him a plate, more like a platter, with a half a Mufaletta sandwich, potato salad, coleslaw, and baked beans. 

As he settled to eat, Gibbs wondered vaguely where the others were. He looked up from his food to see Tony and Remy come in from the back. Both of them were covered with blood, which had him standing up in alarm.

Tony shook his head, saying, “We’re fine, Jet; it’s all the gator’s.” He eyed the shirt he stripped off. “Ick. I need a shower ... bad.” He melodramatically sniffed himself. “Real bad.”

Remy smacked him in the head. “Drape that shirt over you. You’ll scare the locals.”

Tony obediently did that and hurried up the back stairs, calling, “Hope there’s something left for me.”

Gibbs frowned at his plate. “I’ll check.”

Francine came in from the living room to announce. “There’s enough. I kept it aside. I’ll plate it up while you’re getting ... not bloody. Got a gator, I see.”

Remy laughed and went up the stairs, two at a time. 

It wasn’t long before both Tony and Remy were back downstairs with plates in front of them. Jimmy, Dean, and Cosmo came in from the front porch and settled with tea and chips. They shared their day and made plans for tomorrow.

Tony looked around. “Francine? Where’s Ma’mere?”

Francine noticed his concern and was quick to reassure them. “She gone up New Orleans way. Stayin’ with one of the grands. She’ll be back tomorrow ... early, knowin’ her. We movin’ her all round to ease the burden of her stayin’ ... not that it’s a burden, but she’s that way.” She shrugged in a ‘what can you do’ sort of way and went back out to sit on the porch swing and relax.

They joined her after washing up the dishes; they’d never leave them for her to do like she said. Remy sprawled on the deck while Cosmo and Dean took chairs. Gibbs claimed the other swing, and Tony and Jimmy took the two lounge chairs. They talked about what to do tomorrow, the weather, the local night spots, and anything else that came up. 

Tony asked Jimmy what he’d been doing.

Jimmy made a face. “Manning the first-aid station. You would not believe how many people have done something stupid and gotten hurt. Or maybe you would. I actually had two sprained ankles and a wrist. Untold numbers of blisters and minor cuts. And some numbskull was trying to handle split wood without gloves. Got a hand full of splinters. And that’s what I’m doing for the rest of the week.”

Tony frowned, “You okay with that, Doc?”

Jimmy swatted at him. “Sure. It’s easy work. Not a lot of blood or anything. The station is good. The Sheriff sent his emergency truck over. I’m good. And a lot more useful than peeling apples and potatoes.”

Gibbs looked at the sky and his watch, then stood up. “I’m for bed.”

Tony yawned. “Me too. Guys?”

They all agreed that they needed to get to bed. It had been a long day, and another tomorrow. Francine joined them. Ami was already in bed. The other guests were all out for the night, expected in after the bars in New Orleans closed.

.

The next morning was a repeat of the last; with steak and egg sandwiches, grits, and gravy for breakfast, along with the usual Cajun coffee. They all ate quickly and headed out.

Remy was again long gone with Orly to trap something or other, while Dean and Cosmo went down to the construction site. Jimmy headed for the first-aid station, biscuits and coffee in hand. 

Tony joined Gibbs at the construction site, and they made sure everyone had food and knew what they needed to do. This involved a conga line of wheelbarrows, delivering the gravel to people who raked it out even. They placed the forms as they went and were done in three hours.

Tony checked with the lumber yard and was told that the driver was running a bit late but would be there within the hour.

They sat or stood around for about twenty minutes, waiting for the building kit to arrive. They would have started on the pads, but they thought the concrete was on that truck too.

Another phone call proved that it wasn’t, and they were stuck until it came. About half the people drifted off to do other things that needed doing, leaving Gibbs, Tony, Dean, Cosmo, Dan, and Cee-cee to deal with figuring out what to do about the pads.

Tony offered, “The gravel is down and spread. We’ve got the forms into place, so ... Dean and Cosmo can deal with the kit when it comes.” He turned to Cee-cee. “You’ve got a truck?” Cee-cee nodded. “Ok, can we go get the cement?”

Cee-cee thought for a minute. “All I got is two-wheel, quarter ton. Won’t haul more n’ about six hundred pound. We gonna need more mix than that. I bedda go find more sand. We forgot to order matrix for the concrete.”

Gibbs made a face. “Damn it. I knew I was forgetting something.”

Dan shrugged. “Lot to keep track of. If this the biggest mistake you ever make, you doin’ good. Go get some.” He held out his keys. “Take my truck. You wreck it, I shoot you.”

Gibbs took the keys. “Thanks. I won’t wreck it.”

Tony got his phone out and pulled up a GPS on the lumber yard as they walked to Dan’s truck.

Neither one of them had actually paid much attention to it before, but now saw that it was a nearly new Dodge Ram, crew cab, full-size bed, four-wheel drive, that looked showroom-new. The interior was immaculate, as was the bed. Tony settled in the passenger seat with a small smile. “Truck proud. We better not leave even a fingerprint.”

Gibbs put the key in the ignition and started the motor. “Too true.” He let the truck idle for a bit, listening to the powerful motor thrum. “Got the location?”

“I do. Turn left. The place is about ten miles away.”

As they drove they discussed the progress of the house. Tony started, “Jet, I don’t think we’re gonna get that house done in ten days.”

Gibbs nodded. “I don’t either. It was a pipe dream from the start. But we can get the shell up and most of the plumbing and wiring figured out. The HVAC system needs figured out too.”

Tony agreed, “You’re right. But if we can get the vents laid out, that’ll be a real start. How long do you actually think it’ll take?”

“Three weeks or more; half that time will be waiting for someone to get around to the job. Most likely the plumbing and air will be the hold-up. We can do the wiring, as all that takes is marking where we want to put the sockets and switches, then a bit of drilling through the subfloor and staple the wire underneath the house. I’d like to run it through PVC pipe to keep rodents from gnawing it.”

Tony thought about that. “Don’t see the need. All we need to do is staple it, then duct tape over it. No squirrels around here. Snakes are a worse problem.”

“Oh, okay. You sure?”

“Yeah; talked it over with Remy ages ago.”

“Might just close the spaces that have utilities with some plywood or something. Use a bit of sealer to keep critters out.”

Tony thought about that, enjoying the silence and ride after the noise and confusion of the last two days. “Might.”

They finished the drive in silence, just enjoying each other’s company. 

LaMay’s Lumber turned out to be one of those huge lumber yards that didn’t specialize in anything but had everything you could think of available and people who knew what you needed for just about any job.

They were greeted at the door by a young man who said, “Welcome; what can I do for you?”

Tony pulled the receipt out of his pocket and handed it to him. “We ordered this, but when I called to find out when it would be in, the dispatcher said it wasn’t on the truck with the building kit. We need to get it and get the pier pads done.”

The young man took the receipt and looked it over. “Yeah. We send in the order and the kits come directly from the factory all packed in a trailer. We just take delivery ... Non, dis special! I remember. We make order for a house kit. They’re sending a crew to do the shell. It’ll be there by now. But you got to have the pads and piers done. Merde!”

Tony agreed. “Shit is right. Now what do we do? There’s no time to pour pads and get the piers done if they’re sending a crew that should be there by now.” He flinched when his phone started to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and said, “DiNozzo.” He listened for a bit then eyed the phone like it had been rude to him. “Okay. Damn it.”

The clerk returned with an older man. He patted Gibbs on the arm and said, “You consider Quickset? It’ll set in an hour.”

Gibbs shook his head. “No, I didn’t. We’re pouring four-inch-thick pier pads, three feet square. I didn’t think even that would set in time. And I’m worried about it lasting.”

The man smiled. “Non, it’ll last. And it’ll cure hard in about an hour. You know how many cubic yards you need?”

Tony nodded. “I figured it but I’d appreciate it if you check me.”

The clerk took Tony’s phone, fiddled a minute then said, “Same as you. Pull Dan’s truck around the side an’ we’ll load you up.”

It didn’t take long as the whole crew at the store helped load. They even loaded it properly, with most of the load directly over the back axle. In thirty minutes they were loaded and on their way.

Tony took out his phone and called Cee-cee. “You got that aggregate on the way?” he listened for a moment. “Quickset. We can have the whole thing ready in two hours or so.”

Gibbs nodded. “We’re good?”

“We are. The aggregate is on its way, and Cee-cee said the man is going to deliver and bring his mixer with him. That means we can make big batches and pour more than one pad at a time.” 

They got back to the site with the cement at the same time that Dan and Cee-cee returned with the aggregate and mixer. Their friend had another job and just let them take a truck and mixer, leaving the pickup there.

Then they were in the middle of everything all at once. 

Cosmo and Dean showed up to help mix the concrete. Remy showed up too, dragging Orly with him. Jimmy called to make sure that everyone ate lunch and hydrated properly. He threatened to show up in “Mother-hen Mode” and take care of it himself. He told Gibbs that he’d already dealt with three cases of dehydration-induced heat stroke, although he called it something medical. Gibbs replied that they were fine, then went to get drinks for everyone. He had to glower a couple of younger men into drinking the bottled water he handed out.

Cosmo decided that Dean hadn’t had enough water so he chased him around the lot with a bottle then wrestled him to the ground and tried to pour it into his mouth. This resulted in a lot of dust, then mud, which they proceeded to roll in. Since they were laughing and swearing, everyone just stood around watching, cat-calling and making side-bets on who would come out on top. The whole crowd groaned when Gibbs waded into the middle and grabbed both men by a flailing limb and dragged them to their feet. “Okay, you two lug-nuts, settle down. Damn it!” this last as Cosmo managed to slap Gibbs in the face with a wet, muddy arm as he flailed around, trying to get his balance. “That’s it. You’re both on the mats with me after work. Now settle down.”

Cosmo eyed Gibbs for a moment then just nodded.

Dean, on the other hand, had to be a wise ass. “Come on, Jet. Where’s the harm?”

Gibbs bent down, picked up something and waved it under his nose. “This was sticking out of a pile of sand for the walk. Don’t look like a vampire to me.” He swatted Dean in the chest with the long side of the sharpened stake. 

Dean caught it, wide-eyed at the thought of falling or rolling on the thing. “Oh. Ouch.” Then he yelped, “Damn it. Mats? Seriously? Jet. No.”

“Yes. Tonight. Before we eat. Now settle down and get to work before you kill yourselves.” Gibbs turned to see who was doing what, and the whole crowd hurried back to work. “Thought so.” He returned to shoveling aggregate.

Cosmo smacked Dean in the shoulder. “Damn it. See what you done.”

“Me? What’d I do? You started it.”

Cosmo gave Dean a filthy sideoogle. “Did not, bitch.”

“Jerk.” But Dean hurried back to his job, dragging Cosmo with him.

Neither man made any attempt to get the mud off or dry out. They knew better.

Cosmo actually whimpered when he noticed Tony glaring at him. A man standing nearby said, “Don’ see what the problem is. A little horseplay never hurt.”

“Well, that stake put a whole other spin on it. We shouldn’t have been messing around on the job. And ... AJ’s ... he really gets pissed when we goof off at the wrong time.”

“An’ you’re scared a’ him, why?” The man looked over at Tony who was grinning at something Gibbs had said to him.

“You only see the goofy, nice guy. But he’s our CO and a BAMF. Badder n’ me by an order of ... a bunch. We better get to work. He’s givin’ me the fish-eye.” Cosmo hurried to pick up a five-gallon bucket of concrete and carry it to where Tony was waiting for it.

After that little debacle, everyone buckled down to work, and they had the pads poured in a little less than two hours.

Gibbs had shoveled aggregate into the mixer, along with Cee-cee, while Orly ran it. Dean, Cosmo, and Remy had shuttled buckets of mix while Tony kept track of where it was needed. Several other people had smoothed the pads, using wet 2x4’s and muscle. 

So now all they had to do was wait for the pads to harden and the kit to arrive. Gibbs made a third call to the driver, asking where he was. The driver was happy to tell him that he was on the south side of New Orleans and would be there in just about twenty minutes. He remarked that he hated driving through big cities and hung up.

Twenty minutes later, nearly to the second, the truck turned into the soon-to-be driveway, and the driver rolled down his window to ask, “Okay, where do you want it?” Gibbs directed him as he backed into position, and everyone was very pleased to find out that the truck had a crane; all the driver had to do was put the kit down. He climbed up onto the bed and got his control box. It only took him a few minutes to get the kit to the ground. He nodded to the group and asked, “Ok ... who’s the job boss?” Fingers pointed to Cee-cee while others pointed to Gibbs or Tony. “Man, this is gonna be a jacked-up mess if you’ve got that many bosses.” He grinned as he said it, so no one took offense.

Gibbs shrugged. “I’m sorta General Contractor, I guess. I’ll sign for the kit.” He took the proffered clipboard and scribbled his name. “Thanks.”

They got another bit of good news when the man offered, “The set-up crew should be here any minute. They were supposed to follow me, but we got separated by traffic, and they got lost. I’ll call them and see what’s what.”

Gibbs glanced at Tony. “Anyone say anything about crew?”

Tony looked blank for a moment then said, “Not that I remember. But ... it’s all good. We can use the help.”

Five minutes later, the van arrived with eight men in it. They hopped out and headed for the truck driver, who pointed Gibbs out announcing, “Job Boss. See what he wants. I’ve got to get going; my ol’ lady will have a fit if I’m late to supper again.” He started up and drove away, waving out the window.

Gibbs had to laugh; he told Tony, “That seems to be the general attitude of truckers everywhere.”

Tony shrugged. “I guess most of ‘em don’t get enough time at home. Whatever time they do get is ... precious. I’d be pissed if I was supposed to get home and got held up. Oh ... wait ... that happens all the time.” 

Gibbs smacked him on the shoulder. “Oh, shut it, big girl. Come on, we need to sort things out.”

Gibbs and Tony found the crew chief to find out what to do next. 

“Excuse me; AJ DiNozzo. One of the ... leaders of this madhouse. LJ Gibbs ...” he pointed, “is the other. What do you need? Or need us to do?”

The man was a genial redhead with a genuine smile. “Hello. I actually don’t need you to do anything. Our insurance doesn’t cover anyone not on our payroll so ... um ... no polite way to put this. Go home. We’ll check the concrete and start setting the piers as soon as we can. Should be done with the shell by noon tomorrow. The interior is your problem.” He grinned. “So go the fuck fishin’ or somethin’.”

Tony opened his mouth then shut it. He finally said, “Okay, thanks.” He looked around, trying to decide how to tell people they weren’t needed yet. 

This was taken out of his hands by Gibbs, who told a hovering Ma’mere what was going on. She dealt with the whole thing by telling someone, who told someone else. The word got around quicker than if Gibbs had used a bull horn. People started gathering up gear and cleaning tools, laughing and joking as they did so.

The crew chief stopped Ma’mere for a moment to ask her a few questions. This resulted in some hand waving and pointing from both of them, then a bit of laughter. Ma’mere gathered up her minions and led them all to a hay wagon hitched to a tractor; her voice floated back to the pod. “Y’all gonna stand there like moon calves, or y’all comin’ for lunch?”

Gibbs blinked at Tony. “Damn.” Tony looked at his watch and agreed. It was nearly 1400. “No wonder I’m starved. Come on.” They ran to the wagon and scrambled on.

Ma’mere mounted the tractor and drove off for the shelter, cheerfully singing. Most of the people on the wagon joined in, including Tony. Gibbs had to admit that he was no singer, more a chanter, mostly of obscene cadences. The lady sitting next to him just laughed.

When they got back to the shelter, Tony pulled Gibbs aside. “You do realize that this whole thing is turning into a ... thing.”

“I know. But what are we gonna do?” Gibbs realized, just like Tony, that their vacation was turning out to be anything but. 

Cosmo and Dean joined them after cleaning up, as Ma’mere said she wasn’t having any mud dogs at her tables. Tony looked around. “Where’s Remy and Jimmy?”

Dean pointed. “Jimmy’s at the first-aid station and Remy ... he’s off with someone out in a swamp somewhere, doing something.”

It wasn’t long before they were called to eat. This time it was cafeteria-style, where they took a tray and moved down the line. Only this food wasn’t anything like cafeteria food, or Military Grunt Rations, what Gibbs called rotten Mike Golf Romeo. This was bar-b-q pork on a toasted bun with dill pickles and extra sauce, coleslaw, pasta salad, pork n’ beans, mac n’ cheese, and pie; all homemade from scratch. 

Ma’mere drifted around the room, talking to people, laughing at their jokes, and telling a few of her own. She made sure everyone had drinks and seconds. She finally made her way to the Pod, where she hugged Remy, then Tony. She patted Gibbs on the back and called for more coffee for him. She kissed Cosmo on the forehead, then Dean. Jimmy she also gave a hug. “You boys a Godsend, really. Now, your bit is done. Remy, you make arrangements?”

Remy grinned at her. “I did. We leave tomorrow at sunup.”

Tony brightened. “We do? Where for? What?”

Remy swatted him on the shoulder. “You’ll find out. Patience won the race.”

“No, curiosity killed the cat.” Tony shouldered Remy, careful not to spill his tea.

Ma’mere snorted, swatted him too and said, “Satisfaction bring him back. Patience.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Tony grinned at her.

“Bon Garçon.” She sauntered away. “I send over more pie.”

Dean yelled after her. “I’d marry you, if I was older.”

Ma’mere snorted at that. “Non, you would not. I’d say non, you offered.”

Cosmo offered, “Smart woman, that one.”

“Hey!” Dean tried to look indignant but he was laughing, so it was spoiled. Everyone nearby laughed as well. 

They finished eating and found out that they did have jobs for the late afternoon. Gibbs was politely asked to split more wood, as he was the only one who seemed to do it to suit Ma’mere. Tony, Dean, and Cosmo were set to shuttling longs, fat splits, and final splits to where they belonged. Jimmy returned to the first-aid station with a happy smile. He was very glad to avoid the wood detail, which he really hated. Remy disappeared with Orly again.

Gibbs picked up his maul, which resembled a rather fat axe, and set the first billet. The half round sat steady, and he raised the maul to split off a section. He was distracted by a shrill childish scream and missed his stroke. The maul bounced off his target and just missed his foot, cutting a chunk out of his boot. “Son of a fucking bitch!” Gibbs flinched back reflexively.

Tony was by his side before he could even sit down. “Jet! What happened?”

“I fucking missed a lick and got my foot.” He inspected his boot. “Frankly, I’m not looking forward to taking that boot off.”

Tony yelled. “Cos! Need you!”

Cosmo dropped the armload of wood he was carrying and ran over. “What the fucking hell?”

“Jet got his foot.” Tony motioned to a nearby chair. “Bring that over.”

Cosmo hurried to get the chair while Tony knelt down to unlace Gibbs’ boot. “Just hold the fuck still.”

Dean, hearing Tony yell, ran up. “What the fuck?”

“Go get Jimmy. Tell him Gibbs took a fucking axe to his foot.”

Dean ran off again, headed for the first-aid station, yelling, “Medic! Medic! Doc, you’re needed!”

Gibbs started to say something, but Tony cut him off. “Shut up. If you’re not hurt, no harm, no foul. But I am not taking off your boot to find toes in it. Just no fucking way. Sit!”

So Gibbs sat in the chair Dean brought. He had to admit that he was feeling decidedly odd. A bit nauseous, in fact. He’d hurt himself cutting wood before and had a similar reaction. He didn’t understand how he could be run over, shot, stabbed, and beaten, and just get up and walk away, but cutting himself woodworking, and he turned into a big girl.

He didn’t realize he’d said that out loud until Tony said, “Well, one’s on the job and the other ... you’re supposed to be enjoying it. Makes a difference.” 

Jimmy came charging up with a familiar ruck on his back. None of the pod were surprised that he’d made a 1500 yard dash with a ninety-pound pack; there wasn’t an ATV available, and he’d been too worried to wait for a truck. “What happened?” He dropped to his knees beside Tony, eyed Gibbs’ boot then said. “Ok. It’s unlaced, so let’s get it off.” He carefully pulled the boot off while Gibbs bit his lip. “No blood, so that’s a plus.” The sock went next and, to everyone’s relief, everything was more or less intact. “You didn’t cut anything off. Looks like a hell of a bruise.” Jimmy turned to see a horde of spectators. “Could we get some ice water, please?”

A man said, “I get a bucket. Right back.”

Jimmy stood up and addressed the obviously concerned crowd. “He’ll be ok. He missed a lick with an axe but didn’t cut himself. He’s just got a badly bruised foot. Everyone go back to enjoying yourselves. Thanks for your concern.”

The crowd scattered, calling out good wishes, except for a couple of women, who stayed to make sure Jimmy got what was needed.

Their runner returned with a five-gallon bucket half full of water and ice. Gibbs immediately stuck his foot in it, hissing at the cold. Tony thanked the man, shaking his hand. 

Jimmy eyed Gibbs then announced, “I’d like you to elevate that as soon as possible; above your heart would be good, but I’ll settle for on a stool. I’ll be back with an ice pack.”

Dean asked, “Don’t you have some of those chemical ones in your pack?”

“I do. But I’ll save those for times where there’s no ice. I’ll make an ice pack with a gallon zip bag, find a stool, and be back in a bit.” Jimmy trotted off, leaving Tony to deal with keeping Gibbs from taking his foot out of the ice water the second he turned his back. He shouted over his shoulder, “Give him some candy while I’m gone. Left front lower pocket.”

Tony just squatted to find the requisite pills. He gave four to Gibbs, who obediently crunched him between his molars, grimacing. “Damn it. Water?”

Dean handed him some. “Here. Pure spring water from Colorado.”

Gibbs eyed the bottle. “Reverse osmosis, right out of the public tap.”

“Crush my illusions.” Dean leaned over to look at Gibbs foot. It was purpling rather spectacularly, even with the ice. “Man, nasty. We’re gonna have to carry you somehow.”

Gibbs gave him an indignant glower. “I can walk.”

“Yeah, like AJ an’ Gremlin are gonna let you walk on that. Sure. Tell me another one.” Dean’s skeptical tone made Gibbs well aware that no one was going to let him walk.

He spent the next few minutes bitching about that and explaining that he was not letting anyone carry him anywhere. Tony finally called him a whiny little bitch and added ice to the bucket, making him yelp and try to pull his foot out. Cosmo promptly sat on his knee to prevent that. Gibbs smacked him between the shoulder blades, knocking him off. Since he landed flat on his face in the dirt, he got a tad pissed. Tony grabbed him before he could wrestle Gibbs.

They froze the second they heard Ma’mere demand, “An’ just exactly what do you boys think you’re doing?” She sounded like a cross between a lady DI and a third-grade teacher. When it looked like someone was actually going to speak she ordered, “Don’t bother. I can see that you’ve all obviously lost your minds. You ...” she pointed to Gibbs. “Put your foot in that bucket and leave it until the Doc says otherwise. You ...” she pointed to Dean and Cosmo. “Go find a plank. Both y’all get!” They got. She finally pointed to Tony. “An’ you make sure he doesn’t do anything foolish. I’m gonna go back to my pies now.” And with that she hurried off muttering, “An’ if they’ve burned while I was straightening y’all out, I’m not gonna be happy. Idiots.”

Gibbs mumbled to Tony, “Man, I hope they didn’t burn. She’ll have all our asses.”

Tony agreed, then just stooped, dumped Gibbs belly down over his shoulder in a combat carry, and walked off. 

Gibbs yelled, “Hey! What the fuck! Damn it, I can walk.” 

Tony took his life in his hands and swatted Gibbs on the butt. “Shut up, Jet. You’ll scare the kiddies. And stop wiggling, or I’ll drop you on your head.” Gibbs quit squirming, but continued to protest. Wide-eyed looks from the rest of the pod soon shut him up completely. He didn’t sulk all the way to the B&B Gibbses didn’t sulk. Especially not Marine Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

Tony carried Gibbs all the way to the B&B, followed by the pod, Jimmy, and several people who didn’t believe that he’d make it half the 1500 yards. Francine came out to meet them with a worried expression. “He okay?”

Jimmy replied, “Yes, he just bruised the hell out of his foot. I don’t want him on it for 48 hours, and elevated for 12. After cold packs for that length of time, we’ll start heat packs to reduce the remaining bruising and aid in quick healing. He’ll be up and about by the reunion.”

Gibbs opened his mouth to say something, but found a hand over it. Cosmo actually ordered him. “Just do it. You scared the bejesus out of all of us. Deal.”

Gibbs looked around at the obviously upset group and caved like wet tissue paper. “Well, shit. All right, all right. What do I do?”

Jimmy eyed Gibbs as if trying to assess the level of compliance he could expect. “Okay. First, we get you somewhere comfortable, where you won’t miss out on much. Then we elevate and ice your foot.”

Francine rushed into action. “Ami! Make up an ice pack for Mr. Gibbs’ foot.” She pointed at Dean. “You go round to the back. There’s a lovely rocking chair on the back porch, bring it up, please.” Then she poked Cosmo in the shoulder. “You get that wicker footstool from the back room on the left upstairs. Thanks.” Dean and Cosmo scurried off to get things.

Gibbs found himself leaning rather heavily on Tony, who draped one arm around his back without comment. “Well, fuck. That took a bit more out of me than I expected. I really do need to sit down and get that foot up.”

Tony just held on, commenting, “Hang in there. Guys’ll be back soon.”

And they were, both men showed up at almost the same time with chair and stool, while Ami popped out of the house with a huge ice bag, a blanket, and several old towels. “Here we are.” She stumbled over her own feet she stopped so suddenly. “Oh, my goodness. Mr. Gibbs! What in the world did you do to yourself?”

Gibbs explained exactly what he’d done, while Tony and Jimmy got him settled in the chair with his foot on the blanket-padded footstool. Then Jimmy made sure the towel-wrapped ice bag was situated just so, then went back to his station, ordering, “And leave it.”

Ami flopped down on the porch swing, while the rest took places around the porch. “That’s a shame. But you’ll be better in time for the Do.”

Gibbs grumbled something rude under his breath then asked, “How did your test go?”

“It didn’t. That fool Carmody got himself arrested up Big Easy way, so it’s put off until tomorrow. An’ that means I got to go in special.” She shrugged. “But ... it also means I got more time to study, an’ I’m gettin’ special shoppin’ done so no one has to make a special trip. So ...” she shrugged. “It’s all good.”

Gibbs thought for a bit then asked, “You need any help?”

“It’s on Battles of the French Period.” She didn’t look too hopeful.

Tony snickered. “Now what did a certain person major in?” He twiddled his fingers on his chin for a moment. “Let me think…” he snapped his fingers. “Military History of the United States.”

Ami squealed happily. “I’ll be back in a sec.” She dashed into the house, slamming the screen door on the way. 

She returned quickly with her book, followed by Francine calling, “Don’t slam the door!”

Dean looked at his watch, announced, “Man, time does fly. It’s late. 1700 already.”

Ami eyed him in disgust. “An’ what time is that when it’s real time?”

Dean shrugged. “Because it’s so easy to tell whether you mean five in the morning or five at night. It’s five pm, hon. If you need it in civilian, just subtract twelve. And there’s no such thing as zero ten hundred, just so you know.”

Ami thought about that for a moment then said, “Well, it does make sense in a military sort of way.” She settled more comfortably in the swing and said, “We’re going to be tested, multiple choice, on the last four chapters of the book. I got all the work sheets done, and my essay, and turned them in already. So ...”

Tony produced his tablet and said, “I got it. There’s a whole page dedicated to old tests on the website.” He handed the tablet to Gibbs. “Here. It’s this section.” He tapped, then swiped, highlighting the section.

Gibbs glared at it. “I can’t read the damn thing without my glasses.”

Tony flushed a bit. “Neither can I, Jet.”

Cosmo took the tablet. “I got it. You two ol’ men need help, I got your six.”

There was a bit of growling from both Tony and Gibbs, but Ami’s merry giggle shut them up. She cheerfully remarked that, “It’s just that they’re both farsighted. If you could get the thing five feet away, they’d be fine.” 

So, for the rest of the afternoon, Dean and Cosmo took turns asking random questions from the section. Gibbs and Tony discussed the answers with Ami while everyone else either contributed to the discussion or asked questions of their own.

Francine checked on them from time to time, supplying an unending stream of sweet tea, coffee, and water. They all started when Francine came to the door to call them in for supper.

Remy was at the table, finally returned from whatever he’d been doing. He grinned at Gibbs. “Hear ya had a discussion wit’ a splittin’ maul an’ lost. You okay?”

Gibbs grumbled, “I’m fine. Just bruised all to hell; so’s my foot.”

Remy laughed gently. “Well. You’ll be glad to hear that your surprise involves a whole lotta sittin’.” And with that he took a serving of mashed potatoes, then passed the bowl, refusing to say anything else about the day.

Tony eyed Dean and Cosmo for a moment, then said softly, “Did not forget about mat time.”

Dean whimpered miserably, but Cosmo started to stand up. Tony shook his head. “Didn’t forget, but we’ll forego it, this time.”

They settled back with expressions of relief.

.

Chapter 6

 

The next morning was a bit of a scramble as Ami, who was supposed to be out of the house by seven, forgot to set her alarm. And the rest of the house was either trying to sleep in, or getting up too.

Gibbs forgot for a moment that his foot was not to touch ground, so he got out of bed, put his foot down and swore as only a Marine can. He felt hands touch him and relaxed. He turned his head to see Remy, already dressed, holding him by the shoulders. After getting his good foot firmly on the floor he grumbled, “I really need a shower or something.”

Remy nodded. “Got it all set up in the big bathroom down the hall. Miss Francine is a good woman.”

Gibbs just started hobbling in the right direction. He was pleased to see that Francine had put a waterproof stool in the huge shower cubicle so he could sit down, eliminating the danger of a fall. He cleaned up, shaving with a hand mirror that Remy held for him. 

When he was finished, Remy helped him back to their room so he could get dressed. Ami dodged around him, yelling, “Sorry, sorry. I’m so late. Clock didn’t go off.” She scurried around him, making him glad that he’d put on the bathrobe Tony had set out for him. 

Jimmy met him back at the room. “There you are. Feel better? I’ve got a walking boot and a cane. You’ll use them. Or we’ll make a chair. Got me?”

Gibbs gave him an indignant look and snarled, “I’m fine.”

“You are not. That foot has to hurt like hell. I’d really like an x-ray, but it’d take longer than it’s worth. If the pain doesn’t fade in three days, I am making arrangements. Now shut up and hold still.” Jimmy glowered in a way that even Gibbs didn’t argue with and put the boot out. “Put your damn foot in the boot.” Gibbs obeyed grumbling. “Bitch, bitch, bitch. Won’t change the fact that that needs to be protected if you want to enjoy the Do.” He adjusted the boot properly, then handed Gibbs the fancy knob-topped cane. “And use that. Do not just carry it.”

Gibbs accepted the cane with a wry expression. “Well, at least it’s ... pretty. Breakfast?”

Dean called from the hall. “You need help down the stairs?”

“No. Just food. And some candy.” Gibbs managed the stairs carefully, with Tony obviously hovering.

Francine overheard the last remark and demanded, “What you eatin’ candy this early for? You spoil your breakfast, and I’m not gonna be pleased.” She turned to hurry to the door and yell, “Ami, don’t drive too fast. You fail, you try again. You kill yourself ... I murder you.”

A faint squawk from Ami seemed to be agreement but no one was quite sure.

They sat down at the table while Jimmy explained about “candy.” Francine nodded. “Oh. Drink plenty of water with that. That stuff is hell on you liver.” She shuddered when Gibbs crunched the pills up and chased them down with a gulp of coffee. “Oh, merde, that’s foul. I get food. Then you better rush or you’ll be late.”

Gibbs demanded, “Late for what? Damn it, what’s going on?” He plunked himself down in his favorite chair, grumbling, “Hate secrets. Don’t like surprises. Where’s the food?”

Francine put a plate in front of him. “Service this morning. Everyone get the same. Eat.”

No one was disappointed, as the platter held a slice of fried ham, red-eye gravy, grits with a fried egg on top, biscuits, cottage fries with onions, and two rashers of bacon. There were butter and jelly on the table. 

Everyone dug in and cleaned their plates in record time, even for them. Francine waved them off when they got up to clear the table. “Not today. Y’all’s real good about that, but today, you need to get goin’. That tour won’t wait.” She flushed as she realize she might have said too much.

Remy just grinned at her. “Ne’me’min’. Allons-y.” 

Remy led them out to the yard to a church bus. “First African Lutheran Church of Jesus of Nazareth let me borrow their bus to take us to the site. We better move it.”

And move it they did, piling onto the bus to find that their day packs were already in the luggage overheads, courtesy of Remy and Orly. The short drive down to the landing was accomplished in minutes, minutes that Remy used to explain what they were going to do for the day.

“First, we got a nice air boat tour of parts of the swamp, with some fishin’. That takes as long as it takes. Then we got a ‘gator hunt. After that, more swamp, home, supper. Then ... believe it or not, tomorrow’s Friday and the Do start. Any questions?”

It seemed that there weren’t any.

They arrived at the jetty and saw one large air boat with a smiling man seated at the controls, five feet above the passenger seats. He waved, “I hear ya got one on a cane? He make it? Or you need help?”

Gibbs waved his cane. “I’ll just take it slow.” 

They were soon seated on the boat. The seats were more than adequate, as Michel said he usually planned on a tour of twelve or so. He had seating for sixteen, so they were going to have plenty of room. Everyone took seats around the edges or across the front, except Gibbs, who took a seat in the next-to-last row and put his foot up. Michel waited until everyone was settled, then said, “I got a couple of other people to pick up. Total tour compliment is gonna be ten. We go.” And with that, he started the huge fan at the back of the boat and roared off, the pod whooping loudly.

The other passengers turned out to be a couple and their two teen-age sons. Both boys looked like they were happy to be there, but the woman looked like she’d rather have a root canal than go into a swamp. She kept mumbling about bugs and snakes. No one paid her that much attention, intent on enjoying their day instead.

They introduced themselves as Dan and Kathy Reynolds, with George and Evan as their 16- and 14-year-old sons. Kathy promptly seated herself in the middle of the boat, put her bag between her feet and settled in. “Are there life jackets? We should have life jackets, shouldn’t we?”

“No, you don’t need jackets. If we do tip, the water’s only about hip deep on me. This boat only draws about eight inches. The first thing we’re going to see is called the Grand Mat. It’s a local attraction, if you can call it that, of water hyacinth in full bloom.” He eased the boat away from the jetty with some help from Cosmo and Remy, who used push poles to ease them away from the mooring. “Thanks, guys.”

He continued his lecture through headphones to combat the roar of the engine and fan. “The water hyacinth is not native to the US, so it’s considered a noxious weed. In fact, it’s harvested for compost fertilizer in order to keep it from blocking waterways. We used to use outboard motorboats almost exclusively, but now many areas you can’t get through without fouling the propellers. It also blocks sun from the waters, eventually creating a condition that smothers the fish. The flowers are beautiful, though.”

Michel pointed out an old plantation house, and explained that it was still in private hands, well maintained, and on the National Registry of Historic Homes. Kathy announced that it should be in the hands of the state to make sure it was available for tours. Dean snorted and asked, “What part of private home, well maintained, did you miss?” She just sniffed and turned her head.

Dan, George, and Evan just ignored her. It seemed like she tried to be nice, but managed to have some odd opinions— at least the pod thought so.

Kathy realized that she’d said something wrong, but wasn’t quite sure what. She just sat in the middle of the boat and looked around.

Dean and Cosmo moved to the front of the boat, leaving her that whole row to herself. Remy had settled in the seat at Michel’s feet, with Tony on one end of the row and Gibbs on the other. Jimmy was in the front row as well, enjoying the wind and sun with unabashed pleasure. Dan, George, and Evan all sat in the second row, also looking around. 

They arrived at the mat with little fanfare, and Michel gave them time to admire the huge mat of floating flowers before he drove the boat right into the middle of it. “We’re now in the middle of the mat.” He pointed. “You’ll notice the harvester down that way. They use a simple conveyer belt with rubber fingers on it to pull the weeds out of the water and dump them into a barge, which will take them to the experimental plant where they’re shredded and composted. The plant also makes fertilizer. This whole thing is experimental and funded by public donations.”

“The flowers are so pretty. Why can’t you just ...” Kathy waved a hand. “Move them or something?”

“There’s too many of them, and there’s no place to move them to. We generally just spray them with weed killer, but that creates its own problems. This way, they’re used for something, and poisons are kept out of the swamps.” 

George frowned at the mat. “But, where did they come from if they’re not native?”

Gibbs answered that. “Someone brought them in, in 1884 for the New Orleans Centennial Exposition. Cuts were given away by a group for people to add to their pond and lily gardens. Excess plants were just removed and tossed away. They got into the waterways, and it was all over but the cryin’.”

Michel agreed, “Exactly.” He started the boat again. “Next stop, fishin’. I’ve got tourist permits for everyone, and limit and size information.”

He kicked the boat into high gear to take them to the fishing hole quickly. While they were in motion, everyone stayed in their seats. It would be handier to set up the poles now, but it wasn’t safe, so Michel told them all to remain in their seats.

Remy picked up the rope that Michel pointed to and dropped anchor at his command. “Good, we can fish here. If we don’t get any bites after an hour or so, we can move on.” He squinted at the sun for a moment. “It’s nearly sun-high already, so the fish might be shy.”

Everyone was a bit startled to realize that their morning was almost gone. The trip had been fascinating with all the things to see: birds, plants, houses, and the mat. 

Remy smiled around as he announced, “Lunch will be served in a moment.” He clambered over the back seat to reach the storage under the driver’s elevated seat. “We’ve got bottled teas, juices, and water. Mufaletta, egg salad, ham and cheese. Chips. And there’s plenty. State your poison.”

Kathy asked for egg salad, asking, “Is it cold. I’m not trying to be picky, but mayo and egg?”

Remy smiled gently. “I made sure to put extra cold packs in with them. Don’t want someone gettin’ sick.” He handed her a sandwich. “Tea?” She nodded, so he handed her a bottle. “Chips?”

“No, thank you. This is fine.” She took her food and went back to her seat, putting the sandwich on her lap and the tea between her feet. She then proved that her heart was in the right place. “Mr. Gibbs. Don’t get up. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll fix it for you.”

Gibbs nodded to her. “Don’t worry, ma’am, I’ll just make a long arm. It’s fine.” He took the mufaletta, chips, and tea Cosmo offered. “Thanks. Where’s AJ?”

“He an’ Remy are fixin’ the rods.” Cosmo waved a hand at the stern. “We’ll start fishin’ now.” He settled down next to Gibbs with his half a mufaletta, a bag of chips, and some tea. “I’m not lookin’ forward to gettin’ out of here. I bet we hit a snag.”

Gibbs frowned over the side at the dark water. “Hope not. I don’t look forward to poling this thing.”

Michel leaned over; it wasn’t hard to hear people talking; small boat, on water. “If we get stuck, Remy an’ I’ll pole us out. I don’t expect to. I checked this hole and the other yesterday. No snags that I could find.”

He handed out poles to everyone except Kathy, not much of a surprise. She brandished a book and announced. “I’m going to read. This is such a good book.” Tony eyed the cover of Deep Six with disgust and just grunted. Gibbs rolled his eyes.

They fished for about two hours and got a few bites, but didn’t actually catch anything. The boys were getting restless, and Kathy was grumbling again when Michel announced, “No good here. We’ll move on to the next place. It’s nearly two, and our gator hunt is at four.” He took off carefully so as not to unseat anyone, but soon was moving at about thirty miles an hour. The boat was capable of more, but thirty was safe and fast enough.

It took about fifteen minutes to get to the next fishing hole, but they didn’t stay long, as a group of rowdy canoeists paddled through, scaring all the fish into, as George remarked, the next parish. They had no idea, of course, and cheerfully splashed around, hanging off the sides of the boat and trying to visit with the now-surly group. One of the girls announced, “Oh well, you’re not feelin’ it, so we’ll be off.” She tipped the nearest canoe and yelled, “Race you!” then paddled off as fast as she could. The resultant rush to catch up to her scared off any remaining fish.

Michel shrugged. “Sorry, but what can you do? We’ll go gator huntin’ now.”

Only they wouldn’t. As they’d drifted around the area, they’d grounded on an unnoticed snag. Now they were stuck until someone figured out how to get them off.

Michel grumbled, “Well, shoot. I’ll have to dive in an’ see what’s what.”

Tony shook his head. “I’ll do it. You need to stay at the controls.” He pulled off his boots and socks, and stepped over the side, easing into the dark water so as not to stir up mud. He ducked under for a moment. “You’ve got a branch stuck in some sort of intake thing.”

“It’s the intake for the live tank. I don’t have one, but I never bothered to take off the covers. Just yank it loose.” Michael waited while Tony pulled the branch out of the cover, bending the hell out of it. “Got it?”

Tony nodded. “Got it.” He pulled himself over the side with some help from Dean. 

Dan said, “You’re awfully brave to just dive into that water. What if an alligator got after you?”

Tony shrugged. “We’d have words.”

Michel added, “An’ den I shoot ‘im.” He started the boat again, but eyed the water. “There’s a fast current here that wasn’t runnin’ yesterday. We’ll have to go long way around or risk gettin’ stuck again. ‘Fraid the day’s done.”

George and Evan did what every teenaged boy would do and let out groans of disappointment. Dan pointed out that they’d been out for almost eight hours by now, and everyone was tired. No one actually was, but it was as good an excuse as any.

Gibbs announced, “Well, my foot’s killing me, and I need to get it up again.” He proceeded to put his foot back on the seats. “Tony, you got any Vitamin M?”

Tony rummaged in his pack. “I do. Don’t you have some?”

“Took it all. Thanks.” Gibbs popped the pills into his mouth and chewed them. 

The trip back was fun. They were tired in a pleasant sort of way, and hungry. The stop at a stream-side restaurant wasn’t planned, but much appreciated. 

Michel drew up to the pier, tied the boat up, and announced, “Papa John’s Shrimp Shack. Very good food.”

John stuck his head out of the kitchen to call, “Michel, what you doin’ here? Thought you was goin’ the other way this time?”

“Change of plans. Got caught up. Canoes mess up fishin’. An’ we’re too late for the gator hunt, so here we are.”

The Reynolds family took one look at the shack and decided that they’d call for the van to come and get them. Kathy looked like she was exhausted and murmured, “I just want to get back to the hotel. All that sitting around. I know you enjoyed it but I’m ... just tired.”

Evan went over to John and asked, “Is it okay if Mom sits at a table, even if we don’t buy anything?”

John nodded. “You sit that poor woman down. I’ll bring her a glass a’ water. You want a drink, it’s on the house.” He hurried off while Dan made a call on his phone. John returned with the cool water.

“Well, the driver knows exactly where we are, and he’ll be here in about fifteen to twenty minutes.” Dan nodded to John. “Thanks for the water. I’d order something, but the van will be here before you can get it cooked.”

The boys settled down to visit with Dean, Cosmo, and Remy, while Tony and Gibbs sat at another table so Jimmy could look at Gibbs’ foot.

“Well, it’s black and blue still. You didn’t keep it elevated like you should.” He waved a hand at Gibbs’ protest, saying, “I know. I’d be a fool if I thought you’d be able to keep it up while you were fishing. I’m just sorry we didn’t catch anything. I’d love a fried catfish sandwich.”

John called over. “You want just a sandwich or a whole plate? Plate comes with slaw an’ fries.”

Jimmy called back. “I’d love a plate as long as the fish comes on a bun with tartar sauce.”

John shook his head. “Don’t have such a thing. Sorry.”

Tony got up, grinned at Gibbs who just covered his face in mock dismay, and sighed. 

“You want tartar sauce? I can teach you how to make it fresh. You got mayo, right?”

John, who was always up for anything new, pointed to the kitchen. “Got that. What else you need?”

So Tony taught John how to make his personal version of tartar sauce, declaring the bottled stuff ‘common as dirt.’ He made it without measuring, but John wrote down what Tony told him to. “Now. I’d make it up fresh to order and brag about it.” Tony dumped his sauce into a server and left the kitchen.

By then Dean had taken everyone’s order and handed the scrap of napkin to John. “I took orders. We just ordered what we want; if you don’t have it just yell out what it is, and whoever will pick something else.”

A honk told them that the van was there. The Reynolds family took their leave, shaking hands around. Remy noticed something on the table and thought to chase them down, as they didn’t owe anything for a glass of water and a place to sit. He picked up the paper and realized that it was a note on a bit of lavender sticky note.

“John! Lady left a note.”

“So? Read it out.” John had his hands full with four orders of shrimp, two oyster Poor Boys, and a catfish sandwich plate. 

Remy read: “Sir: Thank you for the water and the seat. I’m sorry we didn’t eat, but we’re all tired and the drive will give us time to recover. Reynolds Family.

“Well, that’s real nice of her. How many of you animals want fries?” The general consensus was everyone wanted fries and slaw. So John just announced, “Well then, you get a bucket of shrimp an’ a platter of fries. Don’t break the furniture fightin’ over it.”

There was general laughter over that. Michel got up and went into the kitchen. “No need to dish up slaw either. I’ll take a thing out, and they can help themselves.” Just then, it started to rain. “Damn it! This whole day been a nuisance. Just glad your roof don’t leak.”

Gibbs groaned, “Man, you just jinxed us. There’s gonna be a leak somewhere now for sure.”

John shook his head. “Don’t think so. I just tarred it last week.”

No one was a bit surprised when a gutter fell and the corner of the porch started leaking, causing a small creek to trickle across the floor.

“Fils de pute! I doan believe it. Merde!” John rushed to try to fix it, but Remy stopped him.

“Man, you tend your tattin’. I’ll fix that.” He went out to take a look at the gutter, but all he could do was move the broken bit so the water went into the yard instead of into the building. “Well, that’s as good as it gets. Shoulda kep’ your mouth shut, homme.”

While he was doing that, Tony took a moment to take off his still-wet clothing and hand it to Gibbs to wring out. Everyone admitted that he was best at wringing things nearly dry. “Thanks, Jet. How’s your foot now?”

“Better. I let it go too long between doses. I’d really like to put a hot pack on it. Jimmy?”

Jimmy, who’d been gazing out into the rain, absently turned and said, “Hum? Oh ... foot. Hot pack. Gimme a sec.” he rummaged in his ruck and produced a chemical heat pack, activated it, and handed it over. “There. You want me to take the boot off or can you manage?”

Gibbs eyed the boot and decided he didn’t feel like grappling with it. “You do it, please.” He was also very much aware that this would please Jimmy.

Jimmy move over with a small smile. “Okay, boot off.” He carefully pulled the Velcro open and eased the boot off. Gibbs sighed with relief; he knew how tight the boot should be, but it was still a good feeling to have it off. “It’s still black and blue, but it’s turning yellow and green already. That’s good.” Jimmy eased Gibbs’ foot up onto a stool that Cosmo pushed over, then put the hot pack on it. “There. If it’s too hot, I’ll see if I can’t find something to put under it.”

Gibbs sat for a moment, deciding, “It’s okay. If it gets too hot, I’ll just take it off for a bit.”

And then there was food. John brought out a huge platter of fries, a bucket of fried shrimp, oyster poor-boy sandwiches, and Jimmy’s catfish. Since Michel had already put two containers of slaw on the table, along with plates for those who needed them, it was time to eat. 

They fell to with gusto, and the fry platter was soon bare, while the shrimp bucket was placed at one end of the table; the men who wanted that settled around it. The slaw disappeared from the containers with lightning speed, and they settled in to finish their food. 

Gibbs declared his Po’boy the best he’d had in a long time, while Jimmy didn’t say much of anything, digging into his food and managing only a happy moan of pleasure.

It wasn’t long before the food was all gone and everyone was groping for money. Michael shook his head. “Food included in the tour. An’ John’s gonna come out good. The Reynolds paid but didn’t eat. I called the van back as I’m not sure about the route I was gonna take. Things shifted last night. And I don’t want us on the water in a storm.”

There was a bit of shuffling as they cleaned the tables over John’s protests. Tony told him to shut it, as they weren’t just sitting around while he cleaned. Remy was just finishing sweeping the floor when the van showed up.

A cheerful voice called, “I parked as close to the porch as I could get. We better get going before it starts up again.”

Gibbs just stood up, having put his boot back on, and said, “Rain’s let up a bit. Bye, John.”

John saw them to the door then stood on the porch and watched as they all scrambled into the van, running to keep as dry as possible. Gibbs got the favored front seat to keep someone from bumping his foot. 

Their driver didn’t bother introducing himself, but did tell them that they would be back to their lodgings in about thirty minutes. Everyone stowed their bags under their seats and, in typical fashion, went to sleep. The driver shook his head, but let them sleep, driving carefully in order not to jostle them awake. 

He pulled into the drive, jiggled Gibbs with his elbow, and said, “We’re here.”

Gibbs snorted once, then sat up. “Um. oh. Okay, thanks.” He groped for his bag, calling, “Hey! Wake up! We’re here.”

It had stopped raining, but it was a decidedly soggy group that tumbled into the house, creating chaos in the way that they had. Bags were handed off, and Remy wound up with them all. He stomped up the stairs, grumbling about not being a pack mule, but everyone could tell it was as half-hearted as it got. Dean and Cosmo both decided that they wanted showers, but were put off when they realized that Tony was already in one. Gibbs yelled at him for leaving a trail of wet, muddy things from their room to the shower. Remy and Jimmy both went to the kitchen, Remy to tell Francine that they’d eaten out, something she obviously already knew, as she was making salad. Jimmy admitted that he wanted a cup of hot tea, which he set about making for himself from a bag he produced from his ruck.

No one worried about much of anything while Tony showered, followed by Dean, then Cosmo. Ami returned with a truck full of stuff which she dropped off at the shelter. She bounced into the house cheerfully informing everyone that she’d aced her test, something she knew thanks to the electronic grading system. 

Gibbs put his foot up with the restarted hot pack on it and dozed comfortably in his favorite chair on the porch. Everyone joined him as they finished cleaning up, and they just talked about their tour, the food at John’s, and this and that, spending a pleasant evening without worry about call-outs or cases.

.

The next morning was the first day of the Do, and Francine was notably absent from the kitchen. Ami was there instead and told them that Ma’mere was already cooking for the crowd, not to mention the carry-in dishes, so they were either eating what she knew how to make or cooking for themselves. A quick glance and she headed for the kitchen, announcing, “Okay, I’ll do it, but it’s scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, bacon, ham and grits. It’ll be out family-style in about thirty minutes.” She grinned over her shoulder. “And I really don’t like help in the kitchen; I’ll just burn myself ... or you. So sit.”

They obediently sat and were soon served. Everyone was careful to pay Ami a compliment, as it was just as good as Francine’s food. Then it was time to go to the Do.

.

Gibbs looked around in amazement. “Where the hell did all these people come from? There’s got to be two or three hundred here.”

Remy shrugged. “Campground down the way. Motels in New Orleans. Bunch bedded down in the barn down the way. Catholic church in town got beds in ... everywhere. There’s RV’s parked in everyone’s yard that has room. And cars an’ trucks parked in the parkin’ lot. Some people started drivin’ at midnight. Come on.”

They wandered around a bit, all in a clump. Remy called out greetings to nearly everyone, explaining that, “The only people I don’t know are dates of relatives. Everyone here is related to me, through Ma’mere, in one way or another. There’s a couple of people who are double first cousins. If you want to talk to someone, just walk up and tell ‘em who you are in relation to me.” And with that, he ambled off to speak to someone he waved down.

Gibbs sighed. “I’m for a sit-down.” He suddenly brightened. “Just thought. With this foot, there’s no way someone’s gonna make me dance.”

Gibbs settled in a chair under the shelter near the buffet. It wasn’t set yet, but he enjoyed just watching all the people come in, hug and kiss Ma’mere, then put their dishes on one of the long tables under the huge roof. Many of them greeted Gibbs with, “Bonjour; who you?” He’d explain who he was, they’d visit a bit, his obviously injured foot a good opening topic, then the people would move on and another group show up. 

Dean and Cosmo wandered off to find something to do and wound up playing horseshoes, of all things. They’d stopped to speak with Orly, who had dragged them off, as he was searching for two people to make up the teams. They had a lot of fun, as they were on a team with two older men who, it turned out, were retired Navy. So, naturally, their team was dubbed the Swabs. 

Remy spent most of the day catching up with people he hadn’t seen in a couple of years, while Tony, sociable as he was, spent time just introducing himself and trading stories of Remy.

At noon someone rang an old-fashioned dinner triangle bell and called everyone to, “Come say grace and fill your plates.” Everyone gathered around, someone said grace, and a line formed. Kids ran back and forth with plates and drinks for those who couldn’t get their own. Gibbs was a bit disgusted to see that Ma’mere had included him in that group, which included anyone unsteady on his feet or older than 85, a couple of amputees, and a nursing mother. He was mollified when the young man said, “Best to shut up and let Ma’mere have her way. Notional ol’ woman that she is. Beside, it an honor to help you. Bon appetit.” 

Jimmy still manned the first-aid station, but he admitted that he just liked having a place to sit that no one would steal. He visited with people he’d helped over the last few days, fixed a couple of cuts, kissed a few skinned knees after applying appropriate bandaids, and offered advice here and there. He was also brought a plate brimming with good food and a huge glass of tea. He thanked the blushing girl profusely and watched in bafflement as she hurried off, giggling like mad. 

The whole day was full of good food, fun, games, and chatter. Children ran around like, as Remy said, crazy things, playing whatever games they thought up. Older people gathered in groups, chattered, milled about, played checkers, washers, ladder darts, and other lawn games. At dusk, many of the families left, taking younger children back to put them to bed. The middle crowd stayed to help the band set up for the evening music.

.

Tony glanced up as a man wandered over. “Yes?”

“We ... got a problem. Remy said maybe you could help?”

“I don’t know. What’s the problem?” Tony was willing to give just about anything a try, but he wasn’t about to promise, then not produce.

“Our keyboard man ... he broke his wrist. We sure could use someone can play jazz.”

Tony grinned. “I can do that. I know most of the standards and a few odd bits.”

“Okay. You come?”

Tony stood up and ambled after the man to check things out.

It turned out that the group used a rather high-end, full-key keyboard so they could hook into their sound system. All Tony had to do was fiddle around a bit to get used to the feel of the keyboard. 

The lead singer called everyone over. “Everyone! We got music.” The drummer played a flourish. “Duval broke his wrist, so we got a fill-in. Everyone give AJ DiNozzo a welcome hand.” There was a lot of applause, plus a bit of hooting and such from the crowd.

It turned out that Tony was just as good at jazz as he was at classical. He could even keep up with zydeco. The music went on into the night, with dancing and sing-alongs. When they finally broke up and the lights went out, it was going on for 0300. 

The leader asked, “You need a ride somewhere?”

Tony shook his head. “No, thank you. I’m just over there at Francine’s place. It’s barely a walk. Good night.” 

He was joined by everyone on the way back. Gibbs was walking better, but he took it slow anyway. The night was cool, the stars shining; they could hear frogs croaking in the nearby swamp. They went to bed, trying to be quiet so they didn’t wake the other guests.

.

The next day was a repeat of the last; breakfast was eaten on the run, just biscuit sandwiches, but they were delicious.

The grounds around the shelter were already teeming with people when they arrived. Gibbs was now off the injured list, but his foot was still sore, and he was limping with the cane still. He was also a bit pissed, as he’d ruined the only pair of boots he had with him, so he was wearing his old sneakers. He knew he’d have to get a pair of boots before they mounted up to go home. No way was he getting an earful from everyone for riding a motor in sneakers.

He dodged a noisy of children, then chuckled to himself. Someone heard and said, “Share the joke, homme.”

“I was just thinking about the names we have for things. Like a flock of crows is called a ‘murder,’ and a flock of swans a ‘glide.’” He chuckled again. “A group of kids is called a ‘noisy’ when they’re awake, but a ‘bundle’ when they’re asleep.” The man laughed heartily at that and went to tell his wife. 

Dean was smiling as he ambled up. “We got washers, bean bag chuck, ladders, or horse shoes. Wanna play?” Gibbs followed him off to play washers.

Cosmo was waiting for them, talking with Remy. It seemed he was listing all the foods he’d eaten that Remy was going to have to get recipes for. “Shucked oysters with that green stuff. Corn pudding. Shrimp with that crunchy coating on it. That stew thing the woman called Creole Curry. Po’boys. And that rice stuff with the peas in it.” 

Remy rolled his eyes and told Cosmo. “Shut it, you. That oyster dish is Oysters Rockefeller. The rest, I know recipes for. Anything there was, I know how to make or can find out. Calm yourself.”

So they played washers, taking on all comers and having a great time.

Tony got dragged off to jam with some musicians when someone found out that he played guitar as well as piano. They could hear his laughter drift on the breeze from time to time.

Kids danced in the grass and ran like deer. Adults danced too, and sang along with the songs they knew. People came in with guitars, banjoes, concertinas, accordions and fiddles. Someone would get tired or hungry and just get up and wander off. Someone else would take their place.

Lunch was called with the triangle, and the music stopped just long enough for the musicians to eat. Tony didn’t go back; he said his fingers were getting sore. Instead, he went to play ladders with some of the men he’d made friends with.

They spent the day playing games, eating, drinking and having a great time. Dusk, however, brought about a small, or not so small, problem. Many people wanted fireworks, but Ma’mere always had a firework-free party. She didn’t like them and was well aware that the local tradition of military service made them problematic, at best. Most of the men, and women, who’d been in combat had problems with explosions and flashes of fire. Some kids produced firecrackers which they wanted to set off. This led to the exodus of any family who wanted fireworks. They headed back up to New Orleans where they could set them off and leave the rest of the party to go on about their entertainments. 

There was a new group of musicians for the night, and they provided old-fashioned Cajun zydeco music. Tony wound up dancing most of the night, being passed from lady to lady, and enjoyed himself immensely. Everyone else danced, ate, and drank until they were too tired to do more than walk back to the B&B. Gibbs was even dragged onto the floor once. He made a rather dramatic show of limping and got off the floor as fast as he could, frankly saying that he never danced, didn’t know how, and didn’t want to learn. He was boo’ed, which he took with one of his crooked grins. 

The pod finally dropped into bed at around 0300, and they all fell asleep seconds later.

.

Francine was enjoying the Do. She always loved having lots of people in her house, but she was way off the beaten track, so she usually only got a few people from the swamp tours. These were her “honey” days, the days that she made enough money to keep her for several months. It didn’t hurt that everyone was good. They didn’t leave her a mess and actually helped with chores. Ami was good help, but she had classes, as she was trying to get through school in three years so she could get a job at the projected new grade school in the parish. She perked up as she heard her phone ring. But when she picked it up, she realized that it wasn’t hers. She hesitated to answer it, but decided it couldn’t hurt.

“Hello. This is Mr. DiNozzo’s phone.” 

She got a semi hysterical girl on the phone who demanded to speak to AJ or Jet right now. She soothed the girl, saying, “Hush now. Calm down. What’s going on?”

“Who is this?” This was a different, older voice.

“Francine Reinye. I’m the owner of this bed and breakfast. Mr DiNozzo left his phone downstairs, so I answered it. What’s going on?”

“This is Penny ... Penelope Langston. I’m Tim McGee’s grandmother. There’s been ... an incident. Can I speak to one of the group, please?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll carry the phone up, don’t hang up.” Francine knew that something was badly wrong, so she hurried up the stairs and knocked on the door. “AJ! AJ! Wake up an’ put some pants on. Phone.”

Tony answered the door almost at once. “What’s wrong?” Obviously something was wrong, as it was 0700 and Francine sounded worried. He took the offered phone. “Thanks.”

Tony listened, his face getting dark with fury. He finally said, “We can be there in ... six to eight hours.” He hung up then said, “Our friend is hurt. His grandmother wants us to come. We’ll be checking out. Sorry.”

Francine shook her head. “What do you need?”

 

.

The next story actually starts immediately, but this is getting way too long and the situation has changed. So I’m ending this here.

 

 

.

File 13 - trash can.  
Tango Sierra - tough shit.  
sot- silly  
Théophile - tea o feh lee  
Narcisse - nar cees

Ma’mere lived on Bayou Saint Denis but got flooded out and moved to Davant about thirty miles south of New Orleans

The Grand Mat does not actually, to my knowledge, exist.

I know someone is going to ask so here’s the recipe.

1 cup mayo  
2 tbl finely diced onion  
2 tbl finely diced garlic  
1/2 c sweet pickle relish well drained (or more but be sure to drain it well)  
1 tsp lemon juice  
dash cayenne pepper (to taste. I add more)


End file.
